Well Shit, Didn't See That Coming
by LadyHolmesOf221BBakerStreet
Summary: Charlie is just trying to find her family and survive after the apocalypse; along the way she meets new friends, old enemies, and learns a lot about herself. Falling in love never even crossed her mind.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone :)**

**I'm trying my luck at a 'The Walking Dead' fic. I've attempted to make the characters and chapter's as in-depth as imaginable for the full reading experience.**

**There will be sexual assault/attempted rape but I will not be posting warnings at the beginning of chapters as that's not something you get when you read a book. ****I will NOT romanticise any of the sexual assault/attempted rape scenes because there is NOTHING romantic about those acts. ****This will be the only warning but when you get to those parts and you wish to skip over them feel free to do so.**

**There will also be graphic descriptions of violence/death and sex scenes so this fic is definitely not for younger audiences. I would love to be a fiction writer and fanfiction is like a stepping stone into that world for me so constructive criticism is very welcome but I won't tolerate mean or downright cruel comments. We're all here because we love what we do and we should respect the works of others so I ask that you respect mine too.**

**P.S. I only own my Oc's and all other rights need to be given to those who rightfully deserve them.**

* * *

**Chapter One**

**Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. **

Charlie groaned into her pillow as her alarm went off, the obnoxious beeping noise ringing out in her modest room. Her hand snuck out from beneath the plush blanket and slapped indiscriminately for a few moments before she ultimately found the alarm clock and pressed the snooze button. She didn't need to glance at the clock to know it was six in the morning, the little patter of feet on the floor outside her door easily told her that.

_Like clockwork,_ she mused to herself as she smiled into her pillow. The door gradually creaked open and the little patter of feet fell silent. She could only tell where the intruder was when a few of her floorboards squeaked as weight was put on it. Charlie didn't move. She knew precisely who it was and what was going to happen but she remained still.

"Mama?" came the whispered voice of her four-year-old son, Jackson.

She remained still, her eyes closed and her body slackened as she took deep, steady breaths.

"Mama?" Jackson breathed again, his breath fanning over her face as her bed dipped a little when his small weight settled on it. His face was presumably inches from hers and she felt his little hand move to her shoulder, ready to try and shake her awake.

"Gotcha!" she exclaimed, springing up and reaching out for her son as she pulled him flush to her body and began tickling him mercilessly. His shrieks and giggles were music to her ears as she continued her attack on him, tickling his stomach and under his arms where she knew he was particularly ticklish. _Just like his father,_ she thought with a fondness that was both joyful and melancholy, as it always was when she thought about her late husband.

The door swung open and she ceased tickling Jackson as both she and her son looked up to see who the newest addition to her room was. Of course, Charlie knew; there were only four of them in the house and she doubted her brother would be awake this early when he wasn't required at work.

Olivia was Charlie's mirror image. Her eleven-year-old daughter stood at her door, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Her natural mahogany curls were now a mass of knots and tangles, no doubt from Olivia rolling around so much in her sleep. Couldn't keep the girl still even when she was out like a light. Her russet eyes met Charlie's as she tried to blink them awake. She was wearing her favourite pink 'The Little Mermaid' nightgown and, in her other hand, dangling at her side, was Lucifer.

Charlie remembered when her brother had purchased the black and white stuffed bunny and the look of absolute horror her Christian mother-in-law had worn when her daughter had decided the bunny would forever be known as Lucifer. She had elbowed her brother hard in the ribs as he had leaned against her, tears running down his face as he wheezed from lack of oxygen due to how hard he had been laughing. Charlie had presented Maureen a 'what can you do?' smile, the older woman shaking her head before sending a silent prayer to the man upstairs.

Her husband had had a similar response to her brother and Charlie had rolled her eyes as he fell into a peel of laughter, clapping her brother on the back as they both used each other for support. Charlie had cracked a smile, their laughs contagious before she had ushered Olivia to bed with her new stuffed toy. Her daughter hadn't separated with it since and Charlie had come to enjoy people's reactions when her eleven-year-old daughter told them her stuffed bunny's name proudly.

"Mama?" her daughter yawned drowsily and Charlie smiled, opening her arms and waiting for Olivia to crawl up onto the bed and settle herself down at her side.

"Did we wake you, baby?" she inquired softly, already knowing the answer and feeling her heart lurch as she spied the ever-darkening bags under her little girls' eyes as she shook her head and held Lucifer closer to her chest. "Grandma?" she whispered softly, drawing Olivia closer to her as she felt her daughter shake.

Olivia nodded and Charlie battled her own tears that were welling up in her eyes. Her mother had passed away six months ago, a heart attack that had caught everyone off guard. Charlie had been at work, on her way back from a coffee run, when she had gotten the call from her hysterical daughter, shrieking that Grandma had fallen over and wouldn't wake up. Charlie had dropped the coffee's she had been carrying and had bolted back to her office building and the car park that had currently housed her beat-up pick up; all the while, she was on the phone, calling her brother and an ambulance before she had even gotten in her car.

She had leapt out of her still running car the second she had slammed on the handbrake, running through the open front door to see medics already working on her mother as her brother attempted to calm down her daughter. Olivia had run to her the moment she had noticed her mother standing there and Charlie had fought back her own tears to comfort her distraught daughter. No child should ever have to witness something like that. Not ever.

It had taken her a month to get Olivia to talk to her, a month of chewing her usually impeccable nails down as she watched her baby girl stare blankly at her bedroom wall. She scarcely even succeeded to get Olivia to eat or drink and had shared her concerns for her daughter with her brother. Bobby had attempted to reassure her as best he could but she had recognised her anxiety reflected back at her in her twin brothers' eyes. They were terrified.

It was little Jackson that had managed to break through to Olivia. Charlie still didn't know how her son had done it but one morning she had woken up and had discovered her two children in the kitchen, making a big mess as they tried to make her famous chocolate chip pancakes under the watchful eye of her brother. She had watched her children as they laughed and giggled, flinging ingredients around her once pristine kitchen and hadn't felt the tears that had been falling from her eyes until Bobby had stood up and walked to her. He'd encircled his large arm around her, pulling her to his chest and burying her face there as he whispered to her.

"_Dry your eyes, Charlie-girl,"_ he had murmured into her hair, _"don't let those kids see you cry and think somethin' is wrong. She's mendin' and she needs you to be strong for her. Now smile and go help ya kids make pancakes 'cause I'm starvin'."_

That had been five months ago and although Olivia had finally come out of her shock-induced state, she still experienced nightmares that kept her from having a fully restful sleep. The doctors had told Charlie they would ultimately pass and to try and get Olivia to talk about them, help her sort through what she was dealing with. Charlie tried, she really did, but when she hadn't been able to get her baby girl to open up to her, she had felt like she was failing as a mother.

It was about a month ago, when she had been doing her usual midnight check on her family, that Charlie had found her baby girl out of bed and sitting in front of the framed picture of her Grandma. Charlie had watched her daughter talk to the picture, lingering in the shadows of the doorway as her baby girl whispered to the photo like she was having a conversation with someone. After a moment, Olivia had turned to the door and Charlie knew that her daughter was aware she was there. So, she had come out of the shadows and slowly approached her daughter, sitting beside her as she wrapped Olivia in her arms and squeezed her gently.

"_Grandma says it wasn't my fault,"_ Olivia had said in a voice that pulled at Charlie's heart as she too looked up at the photo of her deceased mother, _"she says it was her time. It was her time to see Grandpa and daddy. She says she's lookin' after them now, she's watchin' them for us."_

Charlie had felt her heart freeze as she listened to the words her daughter spoke. She couldn't believe this whole time her precious child had believed she was at some fault for the passing of her Grandma. How had she missed something like that? The sense of failure as a parent had almost crushed her in that instance and she hadn't been able to speak; she had merely pulled her daughter closer, settling her in her lap as Olivia snuggled closer to her.

She hadn't questioned Olivia about believing she was talking to her Grandma. The therapists she had seen had told Charlie it was possible, a way for Olivia to deal with everything that had happened. They had been silent for so long, Charlie believed Olivia had fallen asleep before Olivia began talking again. She told Charlie everything, from what had happened that day to the nightmares she was getting. They both cried, holding tightly to one another before they had fallen asleep on the floor, wrapped up in each other's arms beneath the photo of her mother.

The morning after, Charlie had woken in her bed, Olivia curled into her side and Jackson laying over the both of them as he snored loudly. Bobby had found them when he had gotten up during the night to use the bathroom and had carried them into her room before returning to his own bed. Jackson, as usual, had been in at six but had been sleepy enough that he simply crawled on top of them and fell asleep once more.

Things became a little more normal after that. Olivia still talked to the photo of her Grandma but she told Charlie about her nightmares too. Slowly, Charlie watched her baby girl come back and she felt the heavy weight that had been on her chest since her mother had died, lift. For the first time in months, she felt like she could breathe again.

She was roused from her thoughts by a heavy thump and a colourful string of curses that had Olivia and Jackson giggling and her eyes narrowing at her door before her brother came into view. "What's all the commotion for, huh?" he asked sleepily, his eyes narrowed in a faux glare as he looked at them huddled on the bed, "can't a man get some sleep 'ere?"

Olivia continued to giggle at her dishevelled uncle and Jackson stood on the bed, his body supported by Charlie's hand at his back as he pointed at Bobby. "Swear jar!" he exclaimed, waggling his finger at his uncle as his other hand fell on his little hip.

"Is that right?" Bobby questioned, his glare lifting and a sly grin crossing his features as he looked at the still giggling Olivia. "Think that's funny, do ya?" he asked as he took another step towards her bed, "I'll teach you to laugh at ya uncle Bobby!"

Her children squealed as her brother pounced on her bed, almost flinging all of them from the bed as his large weight settled there. Jackson was already crawling over his uncle and onto the floor as his little legs took him out of the room and Olivia wasn't far behind him, her small body disappearing down the hall as they shrieked with laughter.

Bobby looked up at Charlie, who shook her head with an amused smile. He crawled off the bed himself and walked to the side of her bed before he looked down at her. She saw the sly smile still in place and glared at him. "Don't you dare," she hissed.

Charlie shrieked as she was suddenly lifted from her bed and thrown over her brothers' shoulder as he fled her room in search of his niece and nephew. "Bobby! Put me down!" she shrieked, hitting his back and eliciting a chuckle from her bear of a brother.

"Looky what I have here," he announced as he walked into the living room, his voice dropping an octave until it was a gravely growl, "a princess to lock in my tower forever." He did a strange cackle, his body moving around her living room as he carried her like she weighed no more than a feather. She was unceremoniously dropped on her sofa only moments before she heard her son give out a war cry and her brother grunt.

Charlie turned over on the couch to see her son with his arms and legs wrapped around his uncles' leg and Olivia dangling from his arm as they yelled their victories. She smiled softly as her little family played dragons and princesses in her small living room before she stood and made her way into the kitchen to start on breakfast. Like bees to honey, her brother and her children were drawn to the smell of food cooking in the kitchen and it wasn't long until she had them all sat around the kitchen table, eagerly waiting for her to feed them.

When the scrambled eggs and bacon were cooked, she sorted them into three plates and a small bowl for Jackson. She placed her plate down at the empty spot and Olivia and Jackson's before them before she sat down with her brothers' plate in front of her. Her brother reached for his plate and she slapped his hand away quicker than a viper striking at its prey. At his incredulous look, Charlie pointed over her shoulder and at the display cabinet behind her. She knew when Bobby's eyes had fallen on the brightly painted jar as he got up, grumbling to himself, and left the room. He came back a moment later, flashing the shiny quarter in her direction before he moved behind her. She heard the cabinet open and then the near-silent sound of the quarter meeting the rest in the jar before the cabinet was closed and Bobby was sitting back at the table.

"Happy?" he grunted as he grabbed his plate and yanked it closer to him, faux glaring at her.

"You know the rules," she replied simply.

"You cuss you put a quarter in the swear jar," Olivia finished, repeating one of the rules of the house that had been established when Olivia had begun learning to talk.

The rule had initially been for her husband, who, although in the Marines, cussed like a damn sailor. Not that Charlie had a leg to stand on, she still found herself slipping here and there and a lot of the quarters in the jar had been put there by her.

Her brother's indecipherable grumbling had Charlie smiling around a mouthful of egg. She was thankful for her brother, who had moved in with her after her husband had been killed whilst deployed. Charlie hadn't been in any condition to be on her own. Six months pregnant and grieving the loss of her husband with her daughter meant Charlie was in no fit state to be left alone. Bobby had stepped up in a big way and, even when she had finally dug herself out of the dark hole she had fallen into, he had stuck around to help her raise her daughter and her son when he was born.

"You got work today?" Bobby asked as he munched on a crispy piece of bacon, his eyes on her as she got up when the coffee machine beeped.

Charlie poured her and her brother a cup of the black liquid before she fixed his with a god-awful amount of sugar and a teaspoon for herself before she placed the cups on the table in their respective locations. "I do," she sighed, "I tried to get the day off but Harrison wouldn't allow it."

"Prick," she heard her brother mumbled under his breath and she kicked him in the shin under the table, giving him a pointed look before her eyes darted to Olivia and Jackson. "I don't know why you work for that man, Charlie-girl," he grunted, "asshole wouldn't even give you time off for ma's funeral. You haven't had a day off since you began workin' there three years ago. S'not right."

"Give it a rest, Bobby," she sighed, very familiar with this argument, "he's been good to me, givin' me a job so we can keep a roof over our heads and food in our stomachs."

"He only gave you the job so you'd sleep with 'im," Bobby growled, ignoring the icy glare his sister sent him, "that man's a pig. Just like Myers."

Charlie slammed her hands onto the table, her body shaking as a cold chill ran down her spine. She saw the moment her brother realised what he'd said, watched as the colour drained from his face before he brought a hand to his face to rub aggravatedly at his beard. "Shit, Charlie-girl," he muttered, "I'm sorry. I had no right."

"No," she agreed, "you didn't." Her eyes darted to her children, Olivia was pointedly staring at her scrambled eggs and Jackson was staring between the three of them with his little eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She smiled at her children when Olivia lifted her head, her eyes meeting Charlie's. "Did uncle Bobby tell you he was gonna take you fishin' today?" she asked her kids, changing the subject and watching as Olivia's eyes brightened and Jackson let out an excited squeal.

"Really?" Olivia asked, turning to her uncle who was giving Charlie an incredulous look.

Charlie stared right back at her brother, her glare saying all she needed to without speaking a word. _'You owe me for that fuckin' comment,'_ her glare screamed and he rubbed at his beard once more before he smiled brightly at his niece, "course I am," he told her, "someone's gotta teach you how to catch them fish and ya uncle Bobby is the best fish catcher in the world."

Charlie snorted into her cup of coffee and ignored the playful glare her brother sent her as she watched Olivia and Jackson practically inhale their breakfast so they could get ready to go fishing. She knew they loved going fishing and camping whenever the occasion presented itself. Charlie loved it too, but with her increasing hours at the office and Harrison's refusal to give her time off for any reason, she never got to accompany her children and her brother on these little trips anymore.

Olivia was the first to finish and put her plate in the sink before she helped Jackson discard his own empty bowl and they both ran from the kitchen and down the hall to their respective rooms. Charlie knew she'd have to get up in a moment to help Jackson get dressed but was giving it enough time for her son to pick out his own clothes. He liked doing it himself, said it made him feel like a 'big boy' and she wasn't prepared to say no to something that made him happy.

A large, rough and callused hand on hers drew her from her thoughts and she looked up at her brother who had moved to the seat Olivia had just vacated. "I'm sorry I brought 'im up, Charlie," he told her seriously and she shivered as her mind went back to the earlier mentioned man. Bobby saw her shiver and brought her to him in a tight hug, "he can't hurt you or Liv anymore," he whispered into her ear as her heartbeat increased, "he ain't gettin' outta that cell for another forty years and when he does, I'll be waitin' to put a bullet through his fuckin' skull."

Of course, she knew he wasn't going to be released anytime soon. She'd made sure he'd rot in prison for as long as the justice system would allow. She shook her head, "_if _that bastard gets outta that cell," she began, looking up into her brothers' eyes, eyes that mirrored her own, "_I'll _kill that fuckin' asshole myself."

They looked at one another silently, their eyes silently communicating in a way only twins could. Bobby nodded once before he pressed his chapped lips to her forehead, "that's my girl," he said into her forehead before he pulled away and stood up. "Well," he began, his voice taking on a lighter tone, "I better go get ready for the impromptu fishin' trip I seem to have found myself roped into."

"You deserve it and you know it," Charlie chuckled, "I better go help Jackson get dressed."

"That boy looks more and more like his daddy every day," Bobby grunted, his lips twitching into a smile.

Charlie returned the smile. Jackson certainly was his father's son, where Olivia looked like Charlie, Jackson could have been his daddy's doppelganger. Red hair, an abundance of freckles, and big brown Bambi eyes, a mega-watt smile and a personality that melted even the hardest of hearts. He was charismatic and kind-hearted, where his sister was stubborn and protective. They loved each other fiercely and she had often found Olivia in Jackson's room at night, her arms curled around her baby brother, squeezing every now and again even as they both remained asleep. She knew why Olivia was so protective of Jackson, knew it was because she was afraid to lose him like she had lost Tommy.

She shook her head, refusing to dwell on those thoughts when she needed to get her children ready for a day of fishing before she prepared herself for a day of taking calls and getting coffee. Being an assistant to one of the biggest douchebags she'd ever met had never been her intention. She had a degree in business and one in international relations. When she had up and moved her family to Atlanta, she had been scrambling for any kind of job that would pay the bills. She knew Harrison from school, he had been a douchebag then as well. Apparently, money just meant he was a douchebag that could pay her well for several hours of him blatantly staring at her like she was the prized turkey at Thanksgiving.

Charlie had considered quitting, she really had, but they needed the money. Even with Bobby bringing in money from his two jobs as a mechanic and a bouncer, living in the big city was expensive and nothing like the small country town they'd hailed from. Her husband had told her she could go to his parents for anything she needed whenever he wasn't there to help her but Charlie really didn't need another reason for Maureen and William to look down their noses at her.

Scott had been a trust fund baby, a boy who had grown up never wanting for anything and somehow managed to become a man that would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it, no questions asked. His family hadn't been impressed when he had given up a spot at a prestigious college to join the Marines and were even unhappier when he had brought her home one day for dinner.

He hadn't cared that she came from a poor family, her mother having had to work three jobs and her dad an alcoholic who beat them if they even breathed too loud. He hadn't cared that she was going into their relationship with a fuck load of baggage or a past that could come back to bite her in the ass at any moment. He had loved her, scars, bad temper, lack of money, and all. Not once in their entire relationship had he ever made her feel like she was inferior to him and Charlie loved him fiercely.

But love hadn't been enough for his parents who immediately shunned the waitress from a backwater town. She'd never be good enough in their eyes but they bit their tongues and kept their scathing comments to themselves after Scott had threatened to walk out of their lives forever. Charlie had protested, knowing how much he loved his parents, but Scott had simply kissed her and told her it'd never come to that. Eventually, Maureen and William came around; they still didn't like her, but they were civil with her for Scott's sake.

When Charlie fell pregnant with Olivia, Maureen and she managed to form a shaky friendship on the shared experience of becoming a mother. Maureen had been with Charlie when she had gone into labour ten weeks early and supported the distraught mother as she watched her baby lay in the incubator in the NICU.

"Mama?"

Charlie shook herself back to the present and looked down at her son who was pulling on her sleep pants in a bid to get her attention. She smiled at Jackson as he showed her the Spiderman shorts and Bumblebee shirt he wanted to wear today. "Come here," she told him, bending over to scoop him into her arms and settle him on her hip as she peppered his face with kisses.

"Mama! Stop!" he squealed, "gross!"

"Gross?" Charlie said, mock indignation lacing her words, "gross is it?! Why you little-"

His shrieks rang out in the small bedroom as her fingers assaulted his stomach, tickling him with fever as he giggled and wheezed, trying to free himself from her grip. Charlie placed him on his bed, giving him a few more tickles before she allowed him a moment to catch his breath.

"Okay, buddy, stick 'em up," she smiled, her fingers moving to the bottom of his shirt as his arms were thrown into the air. She pulled his shirt up and over his head before replacing it with the Bumblebee shirt. His sleep pants and underwear were next before he was ready to go. Almost. "Don't forget ya socks and ya shoes!" she shouted as Jackson bolted from the room.

His little feet hitting the ground reached her ears as he quickly ran back into the room, dug around in his drawer for a pair of socks, picked up his shoes, and bolted from the room again. Charlie shook her head with a chuckle as she went about making his bed.

"Charlie," her brother called from down the hall, "come see this."

Her eyebrows furrowed before she left her son's room, closing his door on the way out, and made her way to the living room where her brother was standing in front of the television, his body stiff.

"What's goin' on?" she asked as she moved to stand beside him.

"Jesse rang," Bobby grunted, "said the militaries in some kinda frenzy. Told me to turn on the news."

Charlie's gaze moved from her brother to the TV and she watched a news anchor standing out front of one of the buildings a few blocks from the office she worked in. There were officers, an ambulance, and a few military personnel in the background. "Turn it up," she told Bobby as she took a step forward before sitting down on her coffee table.

"_Atlanta PD have been unable to give further details on the events that happened in the building behind me less than an hour ago. From what we have managed to gather from witnesses of the event, an employee attacked another staff member, biting the man before he was restrained by security…"_

"Jesus," Charlie muttered, her hand coming up to her mouth and rubbing the length of her chin as she watched the news with wide eyes. "How many is that?" she asked Bobby quietly.

"Six," he grunted, "six cases this week. All of 'em doin' the same thing. Bitin', _eatin'_, the news says its drugs, some new drug makin' people go nuts or somethin'." She could feel her brothers' eyes boring into the back of her head and knew what was coming next, "maybe you shouldn't go into work today, Charlie-girl."

Charlie shook her head, "you know I can't do that. Harrison already said I can't miss work today, I'll get fired."

"Good," Bobby growled, "let 'im fire you, prick don't deserve you workin' there anyway."

"I need the money," she argued softly, "we all do."

She saw Bobby move to sit on the sofa beside her and turned her head to look at her brother. He was rubbing his massive hand over his beard before it went to his bald head, rubbing away the little sweat that had gathered there. "You don't have to go back there, Charlie-girl," he told her, "I can pull extra shifts at the shop, bring in extra money for us."

"You're already pullin' too many shifts, Bobby," she told him, "this is the first time in weeks you've had a day off. They miss seein' you."

"Those kids need their ma," Bobby replied, "they need you here with 'em and not workin' till the butt crack of dawn for some asshole that couldn't tell his left hand from his right unless someone pointed it out to him."

She shook her head, a smile threatening to curl her lips at her brother's analogy. "I guess I can get a job that lets me work from home," she said slowly, mulling it over in her head. She could put those degrees to good use and still be able to spend the time she wanted to spend with her kids. "But I still gotta go in today," she told him, spying the big grin on her brother's face, "tell Harrison I won't be comin' into work anymore."

"Need me to come?" he asked, folding those large arms over his massive chest. Her brother was an intimidating man. Standing over six and a half feet and weighing close to three hundred pounds, her brother scared almost everyone who met him. Until you got to know him and realised how much of a giant teddy bear the man really was, that is. Once you saw what Bobby was like with Olivia and Jackson, you could never find him scary. Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't be if he needed to be. Unfortunately for them, they had inherited their father's temper; they just had far better control over it than that asshole ever had.

"I'm a big girl, Bobby," she scoffed, "I can handle Harrison just fine."

"Oh, I know," he returned with a smirk, "I meant, do you need me to come to hold you back so you don't kick the crap outta ya piece of shit boss?"

That drew a laugh from Charlie, a barking laugh that was anything but _feminine_ but had Bobby's chest swelling with warmth as he watched her eyes light up. She shook her head and playfully shoved at his knee, "I think I can refrain from 'kickin' the crap outta my piece of shit boss' as you so eloquently put it," she snorted.

"Who the fuck has time for eloquence?" Bobby snorted back.

"Swear jar!"

Both adults turned to see Jackson standing at the door, waggling his finger at his uncle again, his little hand on his hip as he glared at the larger man. "Kids gonna get rich off me," Bobby muttered as he switched off the TV so Jackson wouldn't see the news and moved to leave the living room.

"Don't cuss so much and you won't lose all those pretty quarters," Charlie teased.

"You were cussin' just as much as me, Charlie-girl," he threw over his shoulder.

"Yeah," she agreed with a grin, "but I make sure my kids don't hear me doin' it."

Whatever Bobby said next went unheard by Charlie as she patted down Jackson's messy curls before making her way into her room to get ready.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Bobby decided to make their fishing day a fishing _weekend _and had watched as his sister ran around the house trying to get things together for Liv and Jacky-boy. Every now and again she would stop and glare over at him but he merely grinned back at her before she ran off again with a huff.

He knew she wasn't really mad at him by the way her teeth worried her bottom lip. She only ever did that when she was trying to keep herself from smiling or laughing. Liv and Jacky-boy were sitting in the living room, playing with their toys.

His eyes drifted back to the hall that his sister had just vanished down and he couldn't even put into words how proud he was of how far she'd come. Not just from when they were younger, or before she had met Scott. No, Charlie's battle hadn't ended when she had met her knight in ironed fatigues. He'd thought he'd lost her six years ago; thought he'd never hear her laugh or yell at him again. Not after what that prick Myers had done to her.

"Uncle Bobby?"

He looked down at little Jackson, his nephew who looked so much like his daddy, and smiled, "what's up, Jacky-boy?" He bent over and picked up his nephew when the little boy held his arms out to him, placing him on his right thigh as Jacky-boy continued to play with his little army men. "You lookin' forward to catchin' some fish with ya uncle Bobby?" he asked.

"Catch a frog?" Jacky-boy asked, a boy of few words.

"Sure, bud, we can catch a few frogs," Bobby laughed, "uncle Bobby will show you how to cook 'em after too."

"That's gross, uncle Bobby," Olivia said from where she sat on the ground in front of him, her little nose scrunched up in disgust.

Bobby looked down at the little girl, a splitting image of her ma when she had been that age, and chuckled heartily, "ain't nothin' wrong with eatin' a frog. You ain't got no problem readin' that book 'bout the princess that kisses the frog."

"He was a prince, uncle Bobby," she retorted with a roll of her eyes and a small 'duh'.

"My mistake, sweet Liv," he replied, raising one of his hands in a placating way.

"Okay," Charlie breathed as she came into the room, two hiking bags in hand, "I got everythin'. Spare clothes, some food, first aid kits, a rain poncho, and your sleepin' bags. Am I forgettin' anythin'?"

Bobby stood up, Jacky-boy cradled close to him, as he moved over to his stressed sister and kissed her on the forehead. "Stop worryin'," he told her softly, taking the two bags out of her hands, "you look nice, by the way."

He watched Charlie smile softly at him before she looked at Jacky-boy and began peppering his face with kisses. Bobby watched his nephew squirm and giggle, trying to get away from his ma's lips.

"I've gotta go," she sighed, "I'll meet up with you guys tomorrow mornin'. Same spot Uncle Benny used to take us when we were kids?"

"Do I ever go anywhere else?" Bobby scoffed.

Charlie shook her head, moving over to Liv to give her a kiss on the cheek and a quick hug, "I'll see you soon, baby girl," he heard her say, "be good for ya uncle Bobby, okay?"

"Okay, mama," Liv replied with a smile.

"Take care of 'em, Bobby," his sister told him as she picked up her handbag and grabbed the keys to her pick-up, "love you all."

"Love you, mama," Jacky-boy called, waving his little hand around as Charlie returned his wave before she disappeared out of the front door of her apartment.

"Okay kids," Bobby announced, "let's go catch some frogs!"

* * *

Charlie should have realised something was wrong the moment she entered the building. For one, there were a few employees missing, enough for it to be noticeable. Even Harrison, when she had walked into his office that morning, had looked a little worse for wear.

"What the hell happened to you?" she asked as she placed some files on his desk.

"Feeling a bit under the weather," he grunted, rubbing at the back of his neck, "probably just a cold."

Charlie shook her head and turned to leave when she was stopped by her boss calling her name. She turned back around, swallowing the annoyed sigh she felt bubbling in her chest as she pasted a fake smile on her face and turned to Harrison. "Yes, Harrison?" she asked, unable to keep the sharp edge out of her voice when she saw him checking out the shape of her breasts through her shirt. She gave a stern cough and his eyes raised to hers whilst he wore a sly grin, not at all caring of the fact he'd been caught ogling at her.

"I was just wondering if you were free tonight," he began, "I was thinking you, me, a candlelit dinner, and a couple bottles of wine."

Charlie couldn't express just how disgusted she was by the man sitting in front of her but she also knew if she wanted to be paid today, she couldn't just tell him she was quitting right now. "I've told you before, Harrison," she began, "I don't date co-workers."

"Come on, Charlie," he tried, "we're not just co-workers. We've known each other since we were kids. We grew up together."

"Oh, I know," she said, trying not to growl, "I remember just how _friendly_ you and Myers were."

She watched him squirm uncomfortably at the mention of his old best friend but didn't give him a moment to defend himself. Instead, she turned on her old, faded heels and promptly left the room, her fists balled tightly at her sides as she made her way down the narrow corridor. Charlie found herself in the small kitchen on their floor, leaning against the counter as she waited for the coffee machine to finish. She hated the coffee they kept in the office but she knew she wouldn't be allowed to go for a coffee run until Harrison was ready for his afternoon coffee.

"Morning, Charlie."

She jumped at the sudden sound and looked up to see Jennifer waltzing into the room.

Jenifer was the definition of gorgeous. Long blonde hair, big green eyes, curves to be envied and legs that went on for days as her brother would say. She was wearing a black pencil skirt very similar to the one Charlie had on except Charlie's fell to her knees whereas, Jennifer's barely reached the middle of her thighs. Tucked into the pencil skirt was a dark red satin shirt, the top few buttons lefts unbuttoned to reveal her ample cleavage and give a peak of black lace.

Charlie looked down at her own shirt, white and crinkled because she hadn't had time to iron it this morning. The top button was the only one left unbuttoned and she knew the bra she was wearing was anything but sexy; a simple, white t-shirt bra that had definitely seen better days. Her hair was thrown into a haphazardous bun whereas, Jennifer sported perfect curls. Some days, Charlie couldn't help but feel inferior to the woman standing in front of her. Thankfully, Jennifer was a pretty down to earth kind of woman, she just knew how gorgeous she was and dressed to impress. Nothing wrong with that.

"Mornin', Jen," she replied with a tired smile.

Jennifer returned it with a pitying one of her own, "Harrison being a dick again?"

"Do you even need to ask?" Charlie chuckled.

The busty blonde clucked her tongue and shook her head, "that man is horrid. He called me into his office yesterday to pick up a pen he'd dropped on the floor and then apologized when his hand accidentally fell onto my ass."

"You sock him?" Charlie asked, knowing that Jennifer was quick to lose her temper with men who stepped out of line.

"I'm here, aren't I?" she scoffed, "of course I didn't sock him, I stood up, smiled, and got my tight little ass outta there. Perve." Jennifer looked her over for a moment before she sighed. "He asked you out again, didn't he?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "Girl,_ I_ might need this job but you sure don't need it and shouldn't stay here and endure that man's shit," she growled, her painted red lips stretching over straight white teeth.

"I'm quittin' today," Charlie said before she could stop herself, "right after I receive my check for the day."

Jennifer squealed, running forward on freakishly high heels and engulfing Charlie in a deceptively tight hug.

"Jen, need air," Charlie wheezed, patting the woman on the back.

"Sorry! I'm just so happy for you!" Jennifer laughed. Her laughter was cut short when Harrison half stumbled, half strutted into the room, his chin raised and his eyes narrowed at the two women still embraced with one another. "Not good," Jennifer mumbled into her ear as she took a cautious step away from Charlie.

"Miss Blake, don't you have things to be doing?" he said, his eyes narrowed at Jennifer who averted her eyes, nodded, and made her way out of the small kitchen with one last, concerned glance back at Charlie. When Jennifer was no longer in the room, Harrison turned to Charlie, his face red and sweat-soaked as he looked her over. "Miss Mills," he began, only to be cut off by Charlie.

"It's Mrs Campbell," she bit out, glaring up at him. Her husband may be dead but Charlie had never found a need to revert back to her maiden name.

"_Mrs Campbell,"_ he gritted out, his eyes bloodshot, "am I right to assume you wish to quit working here?"

Charlie crossed her arms over her chest and kept her eyes narrowed at the man standing before her. "Considerin' you were just eavesdroppin' on our conversation, I'd say that's a fair assumption," she answered acerbically.

Harrison suddenly stepped forward, his eyes harsh and his hands gripping the counter on either side of her body, effectively boxing her in. Charlie felt her heart speed up as she remembered another time she had been in a position like this. Neither time had been a pleasant experience and she felt her breath hitch as his face moved closer to her own.

"Don't take that tone with me,_ Charlotte_," he continued, his breath fanning over her face, smelling strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. The smell took her back to her childhood when her father would stand over her shivering form, yelling obscenities at her as she clutched her burning cheek. "I've been very generous," he growled, "giving you a job here. Not just any job either, but a very nice, very _high paying _job doing fuck all for a living. Do you think you can just go ahead and quit on me? Just like that?"

Charlie put her hands on his chest, trying to push him back. He stumbled a little but otherwise, he didn't budge. "You're drunk," she said in a small voice, her body shivering and her legs threatening to give out on her. She'd been in this situation before and it hadn't ended well then either. How had she not noticed how intoxicated he was when she had entered his office?

"Is that what you think?" he chuckled darkly, "is that what you told yourself all those years when Mark would beat that pretty little face of yours?"

She violently recoiled at the mention of the man she had been talking to her brother about this morning, her eyes wide as she looked up at Harrison. She shouldn't have been surprised, he and Myers had been friends since they were kids. Of course, he'd know what had happened behind closed doors. They probably talked about everything that happened when Myers wasn't acting like a gentleman to keep a public face.

"You think you'll use that excuse when he finds you again, Charlie?" he taunted, one of his hands moving to her hip as his dark eyes looked up at her, a wicked gleam in them.

"He's in-in prison."

"Is that what you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?" Harrison grinned, "is that what you tell sweet little Liv when she wakes up screaming from the memories of what he did?"

The mention of her baby girl turned her fear into righteous anger and Charlie grabbed the hand that had been painfully gripping her hip, her eyes alight with fire as she bent his wrist to an almost painful degree. "That bastard is rottin' in prison for what he did to me and my daughter," she hissed lowly, twisting his wrist further and bringing him to his knees as he tried to alleviate the pain, "he'll rot in that cell for another forty years and if he manages to live that long, I'll gladly put a bullet in between his fuckin' eyes."

Harrison was laughing now, his head bowed as his chuckling turned into coughing. "Looks like you're gonna need that bullet sooner than you think," he grinned, looking up at her with a deranged gleam in his eyes. He pulled out a crumpled letter and handed it to her.

Charlie took it hesitantly, her heart beating out a furious dance in her chest as she felt her stomach sink. _Marcus Myers. Escaped. Man-hunt._Charlie didn't register the letter as a whole, her mind only picking out certain words, her body threatening to pass out the further she read. Harrison was still laughing, the volume and intensity increasing the paler her face got.

"He's looking forward to seeing you again, Charlie," he told her excitedly, "and he promises to finish what he started, beginning with those two _lovely_ kids of yours and that dumbass brother too."

His words registered in her hazy mind and the threat to her kids and brother threw her over the edge. Her fear came out as anger and she dropped the letter, moving her hand to the back of his neck where she cradled his sweat-soaked face. She lowered her own until their eyes were level with one another and she saw it. The sick glee. The anticipation of what was coming. "You helped him, didn't you?" she growled, forcing her fear to turn into anger even as her stomach churned violently. "Everythin' he did to me, to my _daughter_, and you helped that fuckin' pig escape?"

When Charlie recalled it later, she would only remember the first hit. The crack as his nose connected with the top of the counter. She hadn't stopped there; though, the following hits were blanked from her mind. It was only when she heard the whispered, 'oh shit,' and saw Jennifer's horrified eyes that she realised she was standing over the motionless body of her boss, his face bloodied and his skull fractured.

She barely registered Jennifer grabbing her bloody hand and dragging her from the kitchen. Barely registered the shrill scream as one of the other employees moved into the kitchen and saw the body. Her mind was fuzzy, stuck on that letter and the blinding fury she'd felt when she had realised Harrison had helped that bastard escape. Jennifer's words sounded like they were being spoken underwater and Charlie had tunnel vision as Jennifer led her down the many flights of stairs in their office building.

She vaguely heard an alarm going off, heard Jennifer openly swearing as she threw open the door to the parking garage and searched Charlie's person for the keys to her pick-up. Charlie barely heard the cusses that fell from the blonde's lips when she couldn't find the keys. She did hear the quick 'fuck it' as Jennifer pushed her into the passenger side of her pick-up before getting into the driver's side herself. Had her brain been working that day, she would have asked Jennifer how she knew how to hotwire a car, but she barely registered the loud roar of her pick-up starting before the car was peeling out of its usual parking spot.

She did remember seeing security standing at the exit to the car park, yelling for them to stop and pull over. Saw as they dived out of the way when Jennifer showed no signs of stopping for them.

"Shit, shit, shit!" Jennifer's voice finally registered in her mind as they moved into the some-what hectic traffic of Atlanta. "Oh my god!" she continued, constantly checking in the review mirror. "What happened?!" she screeched.

"I killed Harrison." Her voice was cold, detached, devoid of all emotions what so ever. Charlie could only stare down at her bloodied hands, feeling oddly numb as she stared at the red liquid.

Jennifer didn't have a chance to reply as a cop car came speeding towards them. "Oh, fuck," she breathed. Her body was stiff as the police cruiser flew past them, only relaxing when it didn't seem to turn back around to come after them. "What-what the hell?" she stuttered as another police cruiser flew past them, heading in the same direction as the last one.

"Check the scanner," Charlie said, her voice still lacking and her eyes staring out the window, not really seeing anything.

"Why the fuck do you have a police scanner in your car?!" Jennifer yelled even as she fiddled with it until they heard distressed voices.

"_We need back up!"_

"_I shot him three times, he's not going down!"_

"_There's another one!"_

Rookies. They'd left their radios on.

"_The military are on their way. Do not engage. I repeat, do not engage."_

"What the fuck is happening?!" Jennifer cried, weaving in and out of traffic. When she didn't get a reply out of Charlie, the blonde looked over and saw the older woman staring at her hands, her eyebrows furrowed. "I-I'm going to take you back to your apartment. Okay? Get-get you cleaned up."

Charlie nodded numbly, her eyes not leaving her hands as she placed them in her lap. She'd killed a man. She was going to go to prison. Her children were going to lose their mother. Her head snapped up at the thought of her kids, her body coming back to awareness like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over her. Her mind still wasn't really registering the fact that she'd just killed a man, but it was registering just how urgent it was that she found her family and got them as far away from Atlanta as possible.

She reached for her phone and cursed when she realised it was still in her handbag. She needed to call Bobby, tell him Myers was out and had plans of coming for her and her family. He needed to get Olivia and Jackson as far away as possible, hide them and keep them safe.

Three things registered in her mind in the time it took Jennifer to get them to Charlie's apartment.

One. She had just killed her boss. The asshole who had helped a monster escape from prison so he could come for her and her family as he had six years ago.

Two. She had no way of contacting her brother and needed to get to their usual camping spot so she could keep her family safe.

And three. Her gut was in a frenzy. Shit was about to hit the fan and she never could have predicted just how right that statement was going to be.

* * *

**Okay, as you can see, we're right at the beginning. I began here because the things that happened to Charlie leading up to the start of season one are very important to her character and I didn't just want to show them in flashbacks. Don't worry though, we will be meeting character's from the show early as well but these next few chapters are to develop Charlie and her motley crew so you can get to know them before they become integrated with the other survivors. Now, whilst I will keep a majority of the plot points I will not be keeping them all. There will be people who died in the tv series that won't die in this story and there will be people who survived in the tv series who will die in this story. Some things that happened will happen and others won't but I don't want to go into too much detail about that and give things away for all of you.**

**What did you think about this first chapter? I know it probably wasn't anything too exciting but we're just getting started.**

**Don't forget to fave/follow and please take some time out to leave me a comment below; I love hearing what my readers have to say and take their comments into consideration when I'm writing.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

The full force of what she'd done had hit her whilst she was washing the blood off her hands in her small bathroom. Something had clicked in her mind as she watched the red water run down the drain and suddenly her knees were buckling before she fell to the floor in a heap. Jennifer had run in at the sound of her screams and nonsensical babbling, only managing to understand three words that she seemed to repeat the most. "I killed him. I killed him. I killed him."

To the younger woman's credit, she had managed to get past her own hysteria to help Charlie. She had picked Charlie up off the ground, undressed her, and placed her under the warm spray of the shower. Jennifer hadn't left her the entire time she was in the shower, whispering quietly to Charlie as she tried to soothe the hysterical woman. She didn't comment on the scars that littered Charlie's body as she helped her out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her shivering body. Nor did she bring up the events of earlier to the obviously distraught woman.

Jennifer helped Charlie into a clean pair of underwear, a bra, a pair of faded cargo pants, and a grey tank top. She helped herself to Charlie's clothes, changing out of her work clothes and into a pair of bootleg jeans and an old black shirt. Jennifer brushed Charlie's hair and braided it carefully before she led the shocked woman into her living room and sat her on one of the plush sofas before she turned to the TV and saw the news was showing their building.

"Turn it up."

She had almost jumped out of her skin when Charlie spoke, not having been expecting her to speak after how quiet she had been. Jennifer took three deep breaths and picked up the nearby remote. The volume up, both women could clearly hear the news reporter who was standing in front of yellow police tape as officers, ambulance, and military personnel mulled about in the background.

"…_Harrison Forbes of Harrison Industries was killed earlier today by police officers when they attempted to detain the apparently disturbed man…"_

Jennifer saw Charlie's head snap up at the news reporters' words, the older woman had been staring at her _still _stained hands. Her mouth was agape and her eyes were wide, a look Jennifer had no doubt she shared with the older woman.

"…_police officers were called to Harrison Industries today after a distressed employee had called about the thirty-seven-year-old man laying on the kitchen floor in a pool of blood. Reports say his head had been bashed in and he wasn't responding to employees…"_

Jennifer grabbed Charlie's shaking hand in hers as the reporter relayed what had happened. She didn't know the older woman's reasons for almost beating Harrison to death but Jennifer had known Charlie long enough to know the woman rarely ever lost her temper. Hell, when one of their previous colleagues had touched her ass, Charlie had turned to punch him until she froze, her eyes becoming distant before she practically high-tailed it out of the room.

"…_police opened fire on Mr Forbes when he attempted to attack them after he had attacked and killed Denise Walburg, an employee of ten years and the woman who had called police about his apparent assault…"_

"Dear God," Charlie breathed as an image of Denise was shown on the news. Her face aged but her eyes young as she smiled at whoever had taken the photo.

"…_no further details are being given but we have been told that several people were injured during the attack…" _

Jennifer turned the TV off and they sat in relative silence as the two women processed everything they'd just learnt. "What happened back there?" Jennifer asked after a moment, her pulse calming now that she didn't have to worry about going to prison for aiding a potential murderer. Harrison hadn't been dead, though, with the amount of blood she had seen pooling rapidly around his body, she had no idea how that was even possible.

"I-I have to find my brother," Charlie answered with a shaky voice, "I have to get my kids and get out of Atlanta."

"What? Why?"

Charlie shook her head, standing from the sofa and leaving the room promptly. She moved into the very back room, a storage room for all of her husbands' things. She moved straight for his old duffels, picking them up and hoisting them over her shoulders before she left the room. She threw the duffels on her bed and moved to her drawers, hurriedly shoving random articles of clothing into the bag with expert precision.

She'd been in this position before. Packing up her things so she could run. It was how she had met Scott. She had met her husband in some little diner in King County, a different name on her little white badge and serious bags under her eyes from lack of sleep. He'd been visiting a friend, someone who lived at the edge of town with his wife and son. Malcolm, Merlin, something beginning with an M.

She had been ready to ignore him as she did to any man who showed her an ounce of interest, but Scott had been persistent. Every weekend for three months he would show up in that diner and sit in a corner booth, ordering pot after pot of coffee so she'd have to talk to him for a few moments.

He was there at opening and stayed until she had to usher him out to close up. Then, he'd walk her home, smiling easily as she huffed at him and purposely ignored his presence. He was the epitome of stubborn, and after months of dealing with him nagging her for a date, she had caved, throwing her hands in the air and giving him an exasperated look as he continued to give her that 'devil may care' smile.

One date had turned into two and then two into four and so on, so forth. Six months later, Scott was asking her if she'd be his girlfriend. Of course, she had said no; and she had continued to say no whenever he asked. One night, Scott had barged into the diner, startling the local police who had put their hands on their guns cautiously until she shook her head and assured them everything was fine.

Scott had loudly, and proudly announced to the crowded diner that he loved her and wanted to spend his life with her. That he would continue to go to that diner every day for the rest of his life if he had to, just so he could talk to her and see her smile. A whole lot of other romantic things had spilled from his lips and by the end of it, Charlie's face had been red with embarrassment as all eyes turned to her.

Then he had asked her to be his girlfriend again; even getting down on one knee and holding his hands together in a sort of prayer. _"I'll say yes if you don't,"_ an elderly woman had said, breaking the silence that had descended upon the diner. Scott had grinned and winked flirtatiously at the older woman, who had blushed a bright red and Charlie hadn't been able to do anything but laugh. Much to everyone's disappointment, she had said no but had told Scott to stick around until closing; telling him she needed to talk with him even as she felt her heart stuttering in her chest.

She had told him everything under the bright glare of the parking lot lights and had watched his face go through a mirade of emotions. Anger, disgust, pity, fear. He had stood up, barely paying her one glance before he had walked off, his fists tightly balled as he muttered to himself. Charlie had been unable to move, silent tears falling from her eyes as she watched a man, she had come to love walk away.

A hand resting on her shoulder had barely registered in her mind until Deputy Rick Grimes was sitting beside her, his face etched with concern as he saw her puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks. He hadn't said anything, merely sat there with her as she cried. Then he had offered her a lift home. She hadn't had a car back then. He'd stayed long enough to make sure she had entered her home safely before he got back in his car and left.

Charlie had been asleep when there came a loud knocking at her door and for a split second, her heart had frozen thinking _he_ had managed to find her. She had grabbed the **Smith and Wesson Model 500 4" revolver **out of her bedside drawer, checked to make sure it was loaded, and slowly made her way to her front door.

Standing on her porch in the pouring rain was Scott, his body drenched and his eyes red from crying. _"I don't care,"_ he had told her when she had opened the door, shouting to be heard over the rain, _"I still want to be with you. I want to wake up every day for the rest of my life knowing you'll be beside me. And I'll keep coming back, every day until you say yes."_

"_Why?"_ she had asked him, her tears spilling down her cheeks again.

Scott had smiled at her, a smile she'd only seen him direct at her, as he took a step forward, his hands slowly moving up to cup her cheeks. _"Because I love you, silly woman,"_ he had laughed, _"I love all of you and what you told me didn't change that; if anything, it made me love you more."_

He had had more to say, she knew it, but her lips meeting his had silenced anything else that may have come out of his mouth. Even now, she could still remember the feel of his lips on hers that first time. Wet, salty, rushed, and imperfect; and yet, it had been the best kiss of her life and had symbolised the beginning of a new chapter in her life.

"Charlie, what are you doing? Where are you going?"

Jennifer's small voice broke her out of her reverie and Charlie moved her hand away from her face where her fingers had been caressing her lips as she reminisced. She shook her head and shoved a final pair of jeans in her bag before she shouldered her way past Jennifer and entered her brother's room. Jennifer followed her, neither woman speaking until Charlie was in little Jackson's room, shoving her son's clothes into the almost full duffel.

"Marcus Myers," the very name left a sour taste in her mouth and sent her stomach churning.

"I've heard of him," Jennifer nodded, "rich guy who got locked up when he tried to kill some guys wife and daugh… oh, my god," she breathed, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as she recalled the scars she had seen littering Charlie's body when she was helping her in and out of the shower.

Charlie smiled but there was no emotion behind it. "Would it help if I said they're not all from 'im?" she questioned, already knowing the answer. She sighed heavily, taking a moment to sit on her son's bed and run her hand over her face. "He escaped," she breathed, afraid if she said it any louder, he'd suddenly spring up out of nowhere, "Harrison helped him."

"That fucking asshole!" Jennifer yelled angrily, her face flushing red, "if he weren't dead, I'd go kill him myself! Who the fuck helps a person like that?!"

"Harrison and Marcus were best friends," Charlie answered simply.

Jennifer moved to sit beside her on the bed, her eyes glazed by unfelled tears and her mouth moving but no words falling from them. "Shit," she managed, "just… shit."

"Yeah," Charlie breathed, "I've gotta finish packin' and go find Bobby and my kids."

"I'm coming," Jennifer said with a nod, getting off the bed and moving to pick up any items of clothes she could find and put them in the duffel.

"Jen-"

"-I'm not asking for your permission, Charlie," she retorted angrily, "we're going to pack up your stuff, go to my apartment and grab some of my shit, then we're going to go find your kids and brother and get all of you somewhere safe. Daddy has some property in Texas, I'll take all of you there and you can stay as long as you like."

"I can't ask you to do this, Jen, he's dangerous."

"You're damn fucking right he's dangerous," she ranted as she shoved a pair of slippers in the bag, "daddy followed that entire case from start to finish. Your name was never released but the shit you went through? _No one_ deserves to go through that. Fucking sick, that's what that prick is!"

Charlie laid a hand on Jennifer's shoulder, the action calming the woman a little as she turned to look at Charlie, a single tear falling down her cheek. "I'm fine, Jen," Charlie promised, "I survived. He didn't break me, that's what matters."

They were the words Scott had spoken to her as he comforted her in the hospital when she had finally woken up; a mantra of sorts that he made her repeat to herself whenever she really felt like she was going to break.

Charlie and Jennifer worked quickly to pack her family's things, Jennifer not even batting an eyelash when Charlie packed a 9mm and a shotgun into one of the duffels along with a shitload of ammo. Hell, she didn't even say anything when Charlie packed a couple hunting knives, instead, she had picked up a hatchet and packed it in the duffel as Charlie watched her curiously. "Girls gotta defend herself, yeah?" she had commented simply, "daddy says **always **pack extra, even if you don't think you'll need it; mind you, he was talking about condoms but it holds value here too."

Charlie placed her revolver in the little space between her belt and her cargo pants before covering it with her tank top.

Before they left the house, Charlie tried calling her brother, biting her nails as she only got his voicemail and left a message for him in a voice much calmer than she would have used earlier. "Ready?" she asked Jennifer as the woman hefted a duffel onto her shoulder with more ease than a woman her size should have had.

"Are you?" she retorted before they left the apartment, Charlie locking up after her, as they made their way downstairs and to the pick-up. Duffels packed and loaded into the car, Charlie and Jennifer got in and took off, Jennifer giving Charlie directions to her apartment as they drove.

Neither woman had noticed Charlie's elderly neighbour in the parking lot, nor did they see when he grabbed onto an unsuspecting teenager and bit into his neck.

* * *

Bobby was almost out of Atlanta when he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He and the kids had stuck around for about an hour after Charlie had left before they finally left for their trip. Pulling over, he checked the caller I.D. and sighed heavily before answering it. "I'm not due for child support for another two weeks, Hayley," he grunted.

"Daddy!"

He stiffened as he heard his fifteen-year-old daughter scream. "Sammy?" he yelled into the phone, startling Liv and Jacky-boy, "baby, what's wrong?!"

"Some-something's wrong with-with mum!" she cried, "she-she tried to attack me! She-she-she-"

Bobby felt his heart fall as his baby girl fell into heart-wrenching sobs. "Sammy, calm down," he tried to speak calmly but his heart was threatening to beat out of his chest as his daughter continued to cry into the phone, "you need to tell me what happened, baby, can you do that?"

There was a moment where he only heard her sniffling before her small voice rang through on the other end of the phone. "She-she bit me, daddy," she said in a shaky voice, "she bit me and-and I'm scared. Daddy, I need you!"

He didn't hesitate before he was telling her he'd be there soon. The phone had barely hit the passenger seat when he was turning the car around and driving as fast as he safely could to his ex-wife's house. He barely heard Liv calming her brother down, barely heard the eleven-year-old telling _him_, a thirty-eight-year-old man, that it was going to be okay. He just needed to get to his baby girl.

He didn't see when his phone lit up again twenty minutes later, flashing as his sister tried to call him.

Nor did he see her car speeding in the opposite direction he was heading.

None of this registered to him as he raced to his ex-wife's house; as he raced to his scared daughter. Not yet realising the hell he was about to walk in on.

* * *

"So," Jennifer said after they had left Atlanta and were driving down the I-20 W, "where are we going exactly?"

"Holly Springs National Forest," Charlie answered, her speed not letting up. Her brother had a good two hours on her at the least and she wanted to be with her children as soon as physically possible. "Our uncle used to take us fishin' and campin' up there when my pa would get too…" Charlie coughed awkwardly, "…when we needed a break from home."

She didn't miss the look Jennifer threw her, but was thankful when the blonde didn't comment further on her little slip. "I can't remember the last time I went camping," Jennifer laughed, trying to keep Charlie's mind off everything that was happening, "I do remember, one time, daddy tried to get Bethany to gut a fish. The poor woman freaked out so bad she fell into the lake."

Charlie chuckled at the story, remembering a similar incident with Bobby. "Bethany ya sister?" she asked curiously, not really knowing all that much about Jennifer outside of work.

Jennifer shook her head and drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the dash, "daddy's third wife," she replied, her tone neither bitter nor overly thrilled, "she's barely eight years older than me but she makes daddy happy."

"Oh," was all Charlie could manage to say, not really knowing how to react to that.

The next hour or so was spent in relative silence as they made their way towards Holly Springs National Forest, only stopping to get more gas.

Their momentary stop at the gas station ended with a grumbling Charlie dragging an equally grumbling Jennifer out of the station as a pimply faced teenager waved dazedly at the blonde bombshell.

"I wasn't gonna do anything!"

"Sure, you weren't."

"I was being nice!"

"How about you be _nice_ and get in the damn car, Jen."

"Yes, mum."

"Jen!"

* * *

"Are we there yet?"

Charlie rolled her eyes as she heard Jennifer begin to whine again. She'd asked the same question every five minutes for the last hour and Charlie was seriously considering pulling over and leaving the woman on the side of the road.

"No," she answered in a deadpan tone, her eyes moving from the road to glare at the blonde sitting in the seat beside her, "and like I've said about a dozen times already, we'll get there when we get there."

"I've never been this bored in my entire life!" Jennifer exclaimed, "and I've watched golf with daddy! Golf, Charlie! Do you know how boring that is?!"

Charlie sighed heavily, closing her eyes for a moment in a vain attempt to stave off her ensuing headache. Twenty minutes after they had left the gas station, Jennifer had begun complaining about leaving her phone at work. Then on how hot it was in the car and her lack of a working air conditioner. Then on how uncomfortable her seats were. Let's not forget how she was going to miss her spa appointment.

She had always known Jennifer came from a wealthy family, but she had never known how wealthy until Jennifer had begun talking about all the things she owned. A pink Porsche. A few thoroughbred horses. Two beach houses. A private plane. A pretty expensive boat. Two closets full of clothes, one of which Charlie had seen. Closet was a damn understatement too, the _closet _she'd seen was bigger than her bedroom. Hell, her whole apartment could have fit in Jennifer's thrice over. It made Charlie wonder why Jennifer had said she _had _to work at Harrison's; she certainly didn't seem like she needed the money.

"CHARLIE!"

She jerked out of her reverie, her eyes snapping open and her hands jerking the wheel as her two feet hit the break. The car swerved around the broken-down jeep in the middle of the road, narrowly missing the teenage boy that had been signalling for them to stop. Jennifer's screams filled her ears but Charlie barely managed a startled gasp as her arm shot out in a vain attempt to keep her friend safe as the driver's side of her pick-up collided with the large trunk of a tree.

Charlie felt her body slam forward, felt her head impact harshly with the steering wheel. Black specks invaded her vision and she vaguely heard Jennifer screaming for her before the sound of a door being open registered with her rapidly dizzying mind. A boy's frantic yells came next as sweaty fingers reached for her before everything went black.

"I think she's coming around!"

She didn't recognise the voice that rang out right next to her head, sending shooting pains through her already aching skull.

"She better fucking be coming around, kid, or I'll put you over my damn knee!"

There was some spluttering before something cool was being pressed to her head. It stung when pressed to her head and she shied away from it instinctually.

"Charlie, can you hear me?"

It was Jennifer; her voice sounded like it was coming from Charlie's right and when she couldn't nod without pain, Charlie grunted.

"Oh, thank god," came the boy's voice again

"Shut up," Jennifer snapped before her voice softened again as it addressed Charlie, "can you open your eyes?"

"Do I have to?" she groaned, the words ringing in her head like a gunshot in an enclosed space.

"We-we need to make-make sure you haven't got a concussion," the boy's voice said, stuttering nervously on her left.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Charlie began to open her eyes. Thankfully, someone already had the foresight to darken the room and she spent a solid five minutes working her sore eyes open. A couple of blinks and Jennifer's blonde hair came into view before the rest of her face when most of the fuzziness lifted. Jennifer and the teenager from the road were leaning over her, both of their faces etched with concern, though, Jennifer also looked mildly annoyed; Charlie assumed it had something to do with the scrawny teenage boy.

He was tall for his age from what she could see; sporting a buzzcut and wide, brown Bambi eyes that reminded Charlie of Jackson.

"Where am I?" Charlie asked, "what happened?"

"You-you don't remember?" the boy stuttered, looking nervously at Jennifer who was already glaring at him.

Charlie rolled her eyes, stopping when the action just caused the pain in her head to flare up. "I remember the crash," she told them both, "what the hell happened after?"

"Miles here," Jennifer began with an icy glare at the nervous looking teenager, "had a flat tire and didn't have any shit to change the damn thing with. Which was why he was_ apparently_ in the middle of the damn road as opposed to on the side of it like any normal person would have been!"

"Jen," Charlie groaned, slowly working her way into a seated position. Not a good move. Her stomach churned violently and she barely had time to blink before a bucket was being shoved into her chest and she was throwing up into it. She felt Jennifer move her hair away from her face and heard the teenager, Miles, gagging to her left before the sound of rapidly moving feet, a door slamming closed, and the muffled sound of throwing up.

Jennifer scoffed as she rubbed circles into Charlie's back as the woman dry heaved before she felt like she could finally move away from the bucket. She wasn't too keen to mention that she felt infinitely better after that and was only too happy when Jennifer took the bucket from her and placed it beside the bedside table.

"Where are we?" she asked again after taking a few mouthfuls of the water Jennifer offered her. She didn't say no to the mints the woman pulled out either, popping two in her mouth and chewing on them greedily to get rid of the taste of bile.

"When we managed to get you out of the truck, I changed Miles' tire and he brought us back to his place. He wanted to take you to the hospital but I figured they'd ask too many questions and you wouldn't want to go there anyway."

Charlie nodded silently, knowing Jennifer had done exactly what she would have done in the same situation. Something was wrong though; she could tell by how nervous Jennifer looked as she searched Charlie's face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, "I'm fine, Jen, really. Just a bit dizzy."

And it was the truth. Charlie really did feel fine. The hit to the head had been nothing compared to the abuse she had suffered as a child and a young adult. She still probably had a mild concussion, but Charlie was smart enough to know how to deal with those without needing medical attention. Over the years growing up, she and Bobby had gotten good at patching up injuries that would stir up too many questions if they were to go to the hospital. It was something a kid shouldn't _have _to know, but you played the hand you were dealt in life and she and her brother just happened to get dealt a pretty shitty hand. It had gotten better though; not right away, but it _had _gotten better. That's all that had mattered in the long run.

"Something's happening, Charlie, across the country," Jennifer answered in a small voice that was so strange coming from the usually loud woman, "it's been on the news all evening."

"Evenin'?" she spluttered, "how long have I been out?!"

"Six hours."

"Fuck!"

Charlie tried to get out of bed only for her progress to be halted by Jennifer. "Let me up, Jen!" she yelled, panic seeping into her body as she thought about her brother and her kids.

"Charlie, you need to hear this," Jennifer snapped, her stern tone making Charlie cease all movement as the blonde picked up a remote and turned on the nearby TV.

**The dead are walking.**

Those four little words on the news almost had her rolling off the bed as she laughed, thinking it all some elaborate prank. When she looked up at Jennifer, all the mirth she had felt drained from her body at just how serious the young woman looked and Charlie turned back to the TV silently.

"…_police and military personnel have advised for people to stay in, lock your doors and barricade your windows. The dead are slow but one bite or scratch is enough to infect you with this _still_ unknown virus…"_

Charlie watched with a rapidly paling face as the news anchor advised people to check their loved ones for any bites or scratches. The infection was fast spreading and she could already see how outnumbered the police were as they shot at the walking corpses. Some dropped, others didn't. Her hand flew to her mouth as the camera man's screams filled the air before the screen went dark.

"What the fuck?" she managed to get out as her stomach threatened to revolt again.

"All those cases across the last month? No one bothered to tell anyone just how fucking serious it all was," Jennifer commented, running her fingers through her blonde hair as she switched the TV off, "not until it was too fucking late. Military rolled into town about an hour ago, checking houses and shit."

Charlie didn't know what to say; she had spied the death toll flashing at the bottom of the screen, already somewhere in the thousands. How had they not known? How had no one suspected? What the fuck were the military doing?

**Knock. Knock. Knock. **

Jennifer and Charlie looked up at the sound of the banging against the front door. "Got it!" Miles yelled to them before the sound of his shoes hitting the floorboards reached their ears.

"I was wondering when they'd get to this damn house," Jennifer sighed.

They waited, hearing the muffled voices from downstairs before they heard what sounded like struggling. Charlie and Jennifer shared a look as they heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and making their way down the hall. The steps were too heavy to be Miles who looked like he barely weighed a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet.

Charlie spied her revolver on the bedside table and grabbed it before she rolled off the bed, yanking Jennifer with her. They both hid under Miles' bed, Charlie trying to ignore the smell of old socks and the Busty magazine she could see there as well. The door was thrown open and Charlie saw the familiar boots that belonged to the military. There were two people, two more moving down the hall whilst their comrades checked Miles' bedroom.

_Where's the kid? _Charlie thought as she felt Jennifer's nails dig into her arm the closer the boots got to the bed. Something wasn't right. Not with anything that was going on and certainly not with the military practically busting down doors and searching houses. Just how bad was this virus? Were the military here to evacuate people? Get them to safety?

Charlie was just beginning to berate herself for being so paranoid when she heard the shouts of one of the men that had gone down the hall.

"She's infected!"

A pained yell.

Then, gunshots, and the soldiers in Miles' room where running out the door and down the hall. She swore she heard Miles screaming, calling for his mum and she closed her eyes as she heard gunshots coming from outside. Had they shot the kid? What the hell for? He had looked perfectly healthy to her.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!" Jennifer whispered, pressing her face into Charlie's back, "what do we do? They're gonna kill us."

"We need to get out of here," she told the shaking blonde, adrenaline coursing through her and helping to alleviate the lingering dizziness. For now.

"They'll hear us!" Jennifer hissed.

"Then fuckin' run quick," was Charlie's answer as she rolled out from under the bed and climbed to her feet. Had she not had adrenaline running through her body right then, she would have fallen over. No doubt about it. She waited for Jennifer to get out from under the bed and threaded the fingers of her free hand with the younger woman's fingers. "Run," she whispered.

"I don't think…"

"Now!" she hissed before she was dragging Jennifer from the room, her bare feet barely audible amongst the frantic yells of the soldiers.

"There's more!"

Two little words that sent a chill down her body as she threw a look over her shoulder and saw a soldier raising his gun. Charlie burst through the nearest door, a trophy room from what she gathered by the quick perusal before she was slamming the door shut and locking it for added measure. She'd barely moved herself and a shaking Jennifer away from the door when bullets began tearing through the wood.

Jennifer screamed.

Charlie screamed.

Bullets continued to ricochet into the room and both women dropped to the ground and covered their heads.

"I don't want to die!" Jennifer screamed.

"Yellin' it don't make it any less likely to happen!" Charlie yelled back as she gave the room a quick sweep, her eyes falling on the nearby window. "There!" she cried, pointing to their only available exit as she jumped to her feet. The window was already broken, the bullets having gone through the glass.

"Are you crazy?!" Jennifer screamed moments before the door was suddenly kicked in.

Charlie reacted on instinct, remembering a time when she hadn't been quick enough and the effects of that. The first bullet hit the soldier in the chest, the second was enough to get the soldier behind him to fall back. "We need to go now!" she yelled, firing another bullet as she saw the shadow of the soldier outside of the door. One more shot and Charlie was grabbing Jennifer and running towards the broken window. She screamed for the younger woman to jump and did so herself as she heard the soldiers start opening fire once more.

Charlie felt the left-over glass cutting into her skin and winced as her body came into contact with the top of the porch before her body was rolling off of that and onto the ground beneath her. She heard Jennifer's pained groan as the younger woman landed beside her. "That looks so much easier in the movies," she gasped, drawing a pained laugh from Charlie.

She could already hear the thundering steps of the two remaining soldiers and knew there was no way they were going to be able to get up and get away before they got out of the house. Charlie's head fell back onto the ground, images of her kids and her brother flashing before her eyes as she waited for the bullet that would end her life. Jennifer must have known they were about to meet their end because Charlie heard her let out a broken sob as her fingers threaded through Charlie's and she squeezed weakly.

Her eyes closed when she heard the bullets, only to open when nothing tore through her already bruised and broken skin. In front of them, was one of the armoured military cars; and behind the wheel was Miles, his eyes red and puffy and tears staining his dirty cheeks. "Get in!" he yelled, his voice a squeak as Charlie forced her body to do what was needed of it. She picked herself up, picked Jennifer up when the woman seemed unable to do it herself, and practically tossed them both into the back of the vehicle.

She had barely closed the door when Miles was speeding off, the sound of bullets meeting the outside of the car fading the further they got.

"They-they-they killed my mum," she heard him say, his voice cracking and broken.

"I'm sorry, kid," she managed to get out, and she truly was. What the fuck was happening? Why the hell were the military gunning down civilians in their own fucking homes?

"What am I gonna do?" Miles cried from where he was sitting in the driver's seat.

Charlie sighed, gathered her little strength, and pulled herself into the front passenger side seat. She hissed as each movement aggravated one of her new cuts before she managed to settle herself into the seat. "Where's ya daddy, kid?" she asked softly.

Miles sniffled, shrugging his shoulders lamely, "dunno, never met him. Just me and mum. Always has been."

"No aunts or uncles? Grandparents? Creepy cousins?"

That last one earned her a watery laugh from the teenager sitting beside her before he shook his head. "I'm all alone," he sniffed and the broken tone pulled painfully at her heart.

Hesitantly, not knowing how her next action would be received, Charlie placed her hand on Miles' shoulder and gave it a gentle but firm squeeze. "You ain't alone, kid," she told him, "I know I can't replace ya ma, and I ain't plannin' on tryin', but I ain't gonna leave you to fend for yourself either. Okay?"

He glanced briefly at her, his eyes revealing all the grief he felt in that moment before he nodded once and turned his gaze back to the road.

"Char-Charlie?"

Charlie looked back at the sound of Jennifer calling her name and her eyes widened as she saw the large shard of glass sticking out of the young woman's thigh. "Ah, shit," she exclaimed, climbing back through the car until she was kneeling in front of Jennifer who was breathing shallowly.

"Oh, my god," she was repeating, "I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die. Charlie, I'm gonna fucking die."

"Got it, Jen," Charlie answered as she leaned over the back seats and began rummaging through the back of the vehicle, smiling when she noticed one of her duffels, the one containing her weapons, sitting in the back. Miles and Jennifer must have pulled them from the pick-up after the crash and Miles had the foresight to get at least one of them into the vehicle whilst the other soldiers were distracted. "Ya gonna die," she continued, "we get it. No need to keep repeatin' yourself, ain't gonna keep you from dyin'."

"WHAT?!" Jennifer screeched, Charlie flinching as the sound aggravated her headache. "Why would you say that?!" she continued to yell and Charlie rolled her eyes as she finally found what she was looking for.

Charlie moved back into the back seat, first aid kit in hand, and looked sternly at Jennifer as she spoke. "Ya not gonna die, Jen," she assured the blonde.

"And how do you fucking know?!" Jennifer yelled.

"You're still screamin', that's how," she answered seriously, "had the shard hit an artery you'd have passed out from blood loss by now. Since ya still awake and squealin' like a stuck pig, I'm gonna say it missed the artery."

"Did you just call me a fucking pig?" she yelled, throwing a glare at Charlie who was already opening the first aid kit and pulling out the things she'd need to stitch Jennifer's leg up.

"Do you always have to swear when you open your mouth?" Miles asked from the driver's seat.

"Fuck you, kid!" was Jennifer's reply.

Charlie rolled her eyes at the two of them as she settled herself down beside Jennifer and started removing her belt. "What?" Jennifer panted, "gonna spank me now, Charlie?"

"You wish, Jen," she smirked, removing the belt fully and placing it in front of Jennifer's mouth, "bite down."

"Why?"

"Because I quite like having the ability to hear and I need to pull the shard out before I stitch you up."

"Fuck me," Jennifer groaned, biting down hard on the belt before she nodded at Charlie and closed her eyes, leaning her head back.

Charlie winced as she placed her hand on the shard and prayed to anyone who was listening that Jennifer would pass out quickly. Apparently, someone had been listening, because she barely had the shard halfway out when Jennifer's muffled screams fell silent.

"Oh, my god," she heard Miles say, "is she dead?!"

"No," Charlie assured him as she slowly inched the shard of glass out centimetre by centimetre. It took her longer than she would have liked to remove it but she didn't want to risk catching an artery on the way up, there'd be no saving Jennifer if that happened. "Shit," she hissed as blood started to rapidly pool from the wound once the shard was gone. She hadn't grabbed anything to put over the wound so she could apply pressure to it so she simply shrugged off her tank top and bunched it up before she placed it over the laceration.

The car swerved violently and Charlie had to catch herself before she fell on top of Jennifer's unconscious form. "Watch the fuckin' road, kid!" she yelled, throwing a glare at the blushing teenager who had already begun to apologise before she had finished speaking.

Charlie kept the pressure on Jennifer's leg for what seemed like hours but was probably only fifteen to twenty minutes. When it had finally slowed down enough for her to treat it, Charlie flushed the wound out with the saline she had found in the first aid kit. Alcohol rubs were next and she made sure to clean around the wound as thoroughly as she could before she quickly cleaned the needle she would be using and her hands for added protection. Her fingers had stopped shaking a while ago, settling into the familiar pattern of threading the needle with the surgical string.

"Try to keep the car as steady as possible," she told Miles as she reached down and pinched the skin of Jennifer's thigh together, closing the wound. She was just about to pierce the skin with the needle when the car jerked violently and she had to hold the seat to keep from falling backwards. "Miles!" she yelled, glaring at the boy as he glanced back at her nervously through the review mirror.

"Sorry! Pothole!"

"How 'bout you try and avoid the fuckin' potholes," she muttered as she once again pinched the wound closed and began the process of stitching the wound closed.

Thirty long minutes later and Charlie was applying antibiotic cream around Jennifer's wound. The wound would scar, there was no way to avoid that, and the ten stitches, whilst neat, were still rather crude. Not that anyone could really blame her; she wasn't a medical professional after all. Luckily, Miles had kept the car relatively smooth whilst she worked and Charlie was grateful for the teenage boy who was still mourning his mother.

She had dug around in the first aid kit for some antibiotics, just in case, before sighing heavily when she didn't find any. After checking on Jennifer and making sure the woman was still breathing, Charlie climbed back into the passenger seat, her adrenaline finally having worn off and her body screaming for her to sleep. She didn't. She still needed to talk to Miles.

"Were goin' to Holly Springs National Forest," she explained sleepily, "my brother and kids are there, campin' and fishin'. You know how to get there?" Miles nodded, his tears long since dried though he still sniffed every now and then, and Charlie could see him trying to blink away any more tears. She nodded, her eyes getting heavier and heavier with each blink. "Good," she mumbled, "you did good, kid."

Then everything went dark.

* * *

Charlie was roused from her sleep by her two companions. Both of which were practically screaming at each other now. She blinked a few times to clear her vision and noticed that they were stopped on the side of the road with trees surrounding them on either side.

"What the hell are ya'll fightin' 'bout?" she groaned, her head thumping painfully as she squinted to see out the window. It took her a moment to realise the darkness had nothing to do with her and everything to do with the fact it was actually dark outside.

"Why the hell are you in just a fucking bra?!" Jennifer yelled, her face still a little pale and sweat-soaked but the yelling was obviously a good sign. For her. Not so much for Charlie and Miles.

Charlie rubbed the bridge of her nose as she looked over the passenger seat, "I used my shirt to stop you from bleedin' out," she answered simply, "and didn't exactly have another one to put on before I fell asleep; or did you forget about the concussion I received earlier?"

That seemed to shut Jennifer up and gave Charlie a moment of silence to try and control her headache. "Where are we?" she asked. Miles and Jennifer didn't meet her gaze and she realised that the answer was probably what they had been arguing about. "Guys," she continued, "tell me where we are."

"Charlie," Jennifer began softly, "we're here."

She didn't need the confirmation however, as Miles had just turned on the headlights and illuminated the worn path that would lead them down to the camping area. Her heart swelled and a smile stretched her lips as she scrambled out of the vehicle and practically sprinted down the path, barely hearing Jennifer yelling at Miles, "go after her, idiot!"

"Charlie! Charlie, wait!"

She didn't listen to him, allowing her bare feet to take her down the dark path she had traversed so often with her uncle and brother when she was younger. Her heart was thumping in her chest, her stomach flipping as happy tears fell from her eyes. She would be holding her children soon, embracing them and assuring herself they were safe. They would be fine; even if the world was going to shit, Charlie knew they'd be fine because they'd be together.

Time was irrelevant and she couldn't tell you how long she had been running, her eyes blurred by her happiness. When she reached the spot, she knew they'd be she released a sob as her body went cold.

They weren't there.

And there was blood everywhere.

* * *

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Is she still out there?"

Miles sighed heavily as he kept his eyes trained on the worn path that led down to the campground. After discovering the blood and torn clothes, Charlie had fallen to her knees at the edge of the tree line. He had wanted to stay with her, offer her comfort like she'd offered him earlier that day, but Charlie had told him to return to the car in a creepily monotonous tone that had him listening immediately. Of course, Jennifer had had quite a few colourful things to say to him when he had come back without Charlie in tow, but for the most part, he just ignored the older woman.

His eyes saw movement in the shadows of the path and he sat up further to see if he could make out Charlie's silhouette in the trees. He was worried about her. The temperature had dropped since earlier and she was still out there in nothing more than a pair of cargo pants and a bra. The thought still made him blush. Could you blame him? The world might be going to shit but he was still a teenage boy and Charlie was extremely beautiful. Both of the women he had found himself with were; though, Jennifer's constant insults were a major put off.

He slowly opened the door as the figure approached, still shrouded in darkness. "Charlie?" he called, hoping it was the older woman so he could give her the jacket he had fished out of one of the back of the Humvee. The figure stopped their stumbling for a moment and even in the dark, Miles could see when they turned to acknowledge him. He breathed out a sigh of relief when the lights illuminated a woman's figure. It had to be Charlie, right?

Miles stepped out of the car, ignoring Jennifer's questions as he shut the door behind him and slowly made his way down the worn path towards Charlie. "I've got a jacket for you," he said as he walked, "the last thing you want out here is a cold." He doubted the older woman even cared about getting a cold at this point. He had seen the torn kids' clothes, covered in blood and dirt, and he knew she was looking for her kids. Olivia and Jackson.

"Charlie?" he asked when she didn't reply to him, merely stumbling forward in his direction. He honestly didn't expect her to answer him anyway, the only thing she had said earlier was for him to go back to the car. She hadn't even cried. _Shock, _his mind had helpfully supplied as he had hesitantly followed her orders.

The closer he got to her the more he started to think something was seriously wrong. She looked like she was limping and she seemed to be groaning lowly. "Charlie?" he asked, stopping as she slowly began to come into the light, "you okay?"

It wasn't Charlie.

It was a woman though. And she was hurt.

The woman was the same height and build as Charlie, but that was where the similarities seemed to stop. She had red, greying hair and pale, almost yellow skin. Her eyes were glazed and milky and she didn't really seem to see him. She was hurt though, and he couldn't just leave her out here whilst she was injured. There was blood soaking one of the legs of her pants, the fabric ripped to reveal a chunk of skin missing from her leg. Her dirty blouse was also torn and covered in blood

"Are-are you okay, ma'am?" he asked unsurely. He'd have to go find Charlie when he got the woman back to the car, get her to stitch up the woman's wounds.

She was about two metres away from him now, her bony fingers reaching for him as she shuffled forward.

Then she sprung on him.

Miles screamed as he was dragged to the ground by the older woman whose groans had increased. "Get off!" he cried, kicking at her face as he scrambled back. She kept coming like she couldn't feel the blows he had been dealing her a moment ago. He knew he was a scrawny kid but she should have at least been stunned. Right?

She was crawling towards him, her hand reaching out every now and again where it gripped his shoe loosely before he kicked it off. More groaning and his head turned to see an older man coming up behind him, his eyes the same as the woman. Glazed and milky. "Fuck," he squeaked, his voice breaking as he tried to change his path and head for the trees. He needed to get to his feet, needed to run. But he was forced into inaction by crippling fear.

Two hands grabbing his shirt had him screaming again as he was yanked to his feet.

He turned, fist raised and ready to strike at anything he could get his hands on when he saw Charlie. Her fists balled into the front of his flannel shirt as she dragged him closer to her and further away from the couple. "Get to the car," she hissed, her eyes not leaving the couple. "Now!" she yelled, pushing him forward and staying just behind him. Every now and again, he'd feel her give him a light push, a silent _'hurry the fuck up, kid' _and he'd force his legs to pump harder.

Miles scrambled into the passenger side of the car the moment he reached it, watching as Charlie jumped into the driver's seat and quickly started the engine. He was thrown back by the force of her burning rubber to get them the hell out of there. Both of them ignored Jennifer's questions, a fact that greatly pissed off the other woman if her grumbling was anything to go by.

He threw a look at Charlie and recoiled at the sight of her blood-stained hands. There were small traces of blood smeared on her face but she seemed ignorant of that fact as she drove, not once looking back at the couple that had just tried to attack him.

"What the fuck is happening?" Jennifer screamed again, apparently over their silence.

"They're infected," Charlie answered, her voice hoarse and monotonous.

"How do you know?" Miles breathed, his hand moving over his buzzcut as he stared wide-eyed at the older woman who might have just saved his life.

Charlie grunted, "it wasn't them." A moment of silence. "It wasn't my brother or kids," she elaborated, "some other couple must have been campin' up there with their kids. One of 'em must have gotten bit or scratched; killed the others."

"But-but they weren't dead!" Miles yelled, "they were walking! The dead don't walk!"

"They do now," Charlie replied in that creepy emotionless way, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. Miles and Jennifer shared a concerned look as they continued to drive, Charlie not saying a word to either of them of what had happened earlier.

They drove in silence for close to an hour before Charlie suddenly pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the car, and got out. Miles looked back at Jennifer and saw her watching Charlie walk a little way away from the car before she crouched down and seemed to stay like that.

"She okay?" Miles asked quietly.

"Not even a little, kid," she replied, her voice softer than it had ever been since he had met her, "that there," she continued, pointing towards the crouched woman, "that's a woman barely holding on by a thread; and whatever the fuck just happened, might have been the knife that cuts the thread."

Silence fell.

* * *

**Earlier…**

Something was wrong. Her brain had been screaming the same three words to her since she had seen the horrific sight she now kneeled before. Something didn't add up and her brain was searching for it but the rest of her body seemed unable to make the connection. She knew she sent Miles away a little over five minutes ago. Knew she was still in her bra and could feel the biting cold of the wind against her exposed skin.

She had heard Miles' sharp intake of air when he had first stood behind her, knew he had seen the copious amounts of scars that littered her back. Hell, he had probably seen the ones that had been on her stomach when she was passed out in the car earlier. When he didn't say anything about them, she assumed Jennifer had said something to him.

_The clothes, _she thought as she looked at the batman shirt she had been gripping tightly, covered in blood and dirt and staining her hands a similar dark red, _something's wrong with the clothes. _It took her a moment to realise Jackson didn't own any batman clothes. He was a Marvel fan and generally kept away from the DC franchise because of that. She had Bobby to thank for that, her brother was a massive Marvel fan himself and had made it his personal mission to _educate _her son in all things Marvel.

She should have felt happy but she still only felt numb. They weren't _here_, so where the hell were they? Had something happened to them? Had the military gotten to them? Had Myers found them?

Charlie put an immediate stop to that thought, not wanting to even consider that a possibility. Another five minutes passed before Charlie stood and made for the trees. The clothes hadn't belonged to _her _children, but they had belonged to someone's children. There was a family out there, and they were hurt.

Her toes sunk into the cold earth as she moved, leaves rustling with each step as the moon illuminated her path. She made sure she didn't go into the darker parts of the forest, she wasn't stupid and she certainly wasn't going to end up on the news because she had gotten lost in the woods and died because she couldn't see her own hand in front of her face.

She'd barely taken more than twenty steps when she tripped over something on the ground. Charlie grumbled to herself, turning around and glaring at the offending object only to pale when she saw the small arm half hidden beneath a pile of leaves. Her stomach churned and Charlie threw up on the ground beside her, her whole-body heaving as she did. What the hell? What. The actual. Hell? In what fucking universe did you trip over a child's fucking arm?

Shuffling behind her had Charlie turning around to see a petite figure stumbling towards her. The person stumbled into a beam of moonlight and Charlie would have moved towards the obviously injured teenager if it wasn't for the blood coating her mouth and chin. Charlie watched the girl stumble around for a moment and wondered if the teenager even noticed her standing there. The girl was moaning and groaning as she dragged her obviously broken leg behind her slightly. Did she even feel it? Apparently not.

The wind suddenly shifted, blowing towards the stumbling teen and Charlie watched as she sniffed the air before her head snapped towards Charlie. The older woman took that as her cue to leave and started taking cautious steps back towards the destroyed camp she had just come from. Had the wind not still been blowing in from behind her, she never would have smelt it. She recognised the smell from when she had entered her uncle Benny's hunting shed when she was seven. The smell of rotting flesh and decay had made her gag profusely and was a stench she doubted she'd ever forget.

Charlie quickly turned around and screamed when she saw the middle-aged man with his bottom jaw missing and half of his chewed-up torso exposed by his shredded shirt. She reached for her gun, her heart lurching when her fingers came into contact with nothing. Vaguely, she recalled not picking the gun up after jumping out of the window, not really high on her list of priorities at the time.

She ducked under the hand reaching for her and, without wasting a moment, took off at a damn sprint. She didn't look over her shoulder, didn't bother to see where the hell they were. Unless she could see one in the direction she was running, it meant they were still behind her and they hadn't gotten to her. Charlie had watched enough horror movies to know the character who turned to look back usually trip over something utterly ridiculous and avoidable and died shortly after.

She had been half way up the path when another figure stumbled onto it. This one a young man missing an arm. Her stomach churned but she swallowed the bile that threatened to come up as she veered off into the trees, still keeping the path in sight but running _along _it and not _on _it. Charlie's mind went back to the news report she and Jennifer had watched earlier. _The dead were walking. Infected. Bite or scratch. Virus._ The words appeared and disappeared equally as fast and she would later berate herself for her moment of distraction as she felt her bare foot catch on an exposed root.

Charlie fell. Her body was too tired. First the concussion, then jumping out of a second-storey window, not to mention all the stress of today. It was just too much. She felt rocks dig into her exposed skin as she rolled before she came to an abrupt stop at the base of a tree.

The black spots from earlier were back, threatening to send her back into the world of unconsciousness but the eerie sound of groaning and shuffling feet instilled enough fear in her to keep the adrenaline pumping through her body.

The young man from earlier, the corpse without an arm, was shuffling towards her. Her mouth was dry and her body cold, still trapped in that blissful little numbness she had been in since she had seen all the blood. Her eyes frantically searched for a weapon when suddenly a sharp _twang _rang through the air before the man in front of her fell backwards, an arrow between his eyes.

Charlie quickly turned around as she scrambled to her feet, not willing to have her back to anything in this damn forest that could kill her. Blue. Piercing blue. That's what she saw when she turned. Though, in hindsight, she probably should have seen the damn crossbow first. She couldn't have been any more than fourteen years old; short red hair, teary blue eyes, and blood smudged cheeks. Charlie's eyes narrowed in on the bite on her shoulder that was bleeding profusely.

"Jackson," she sobbed and Charlie felt something other than numbness in that moment. Fear. Despair. A crushing weight on her chest.

"What did you just say?" she breathed.

The girl didn't answer her; instead, she stumbled past Charlie who gave the potentially infected teenager a wide berth. She watched the girl fall to her knees in front of the young man she'd just saved her from. Her body shaking as she dropped the crossbow with a heavy _thump,_ her shaky hands moving to cup the corpses face. "I'm sorry," she kept whispering as tears fell down her dirty cheeks, "I'm sorry, Jackson."

Charlie watched the girl sob over her brother, taking a hesitant step forward before her head snapped to the left as she heard Miles' familiar shout. She frowned, not liking the fact she'd heard him shout enough in less than twenty-four hours to become familiar with it. Though, she doubted she'd ever forget the sound of him screaming for his mum as the soldiers opened fire on the room down the hall.

When she looked back to the girl, she was already staring at Charlie, her eyes wide and pained. "The-the head," she whispered, "you have to aim for the head." Her body was beginning to slump, her eyes beginning to close. "They don't die unless you hit the brain," she cried before she was weakly pushing the crossbow towards Charlie, an arrow ready. "Please," she begged, her voice broken, "I don't wanna come back as one of those things."

She couldn't believe what this girl was asking her to do but when she had tried to say no, to move away so she could go help Miles, the girl jumped at her, fisting the material of her cargo pants with one hand as she picked up the crossbow with the other. She got to her knees and practically shoved the crossbow at her, though, thankfully not hard enough to set the damn thing off. "I saved you," she hissed desperately, "you-you owe me!"

Charlie's hands had wrapped around the crossbow instinctually when it had been thrust into her stomach and watched with wide eyes as the teenager fell onto her back as her body was wracked with body-heaving coughs. She moved onto her side, spitting out an unhealthy amount of blood before weakly turning her head to Charlie. "Do it," she whispered, her face ashen and her arms shaking with the strain of supporting her, "do it!"

She positioned the crossbow the way she'd seen the girl holding it, and aimed it at the girl's head as her eyes filled with hot tears. Her hands shook as she lined the arrow up with the girl's head, the teenager moving so the arrow tip was only inches from touching her forehead. Those big blue eyes looked up at Charlie and she almost dropped the crossbow then and there. "Do it," she breathed again, "please, just-just do it."

Charlie closed her eyes, her ears filled with the wheezing that was coming from the teenager knelt before her. She opened them as the tears began to fall and her finger moved to the trigger. "What's ya name?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper on the breeze.

"Lily."

She took in a deep, shuttering breath. "I'm sorry, Lily," she said.

**Twang.**

**Thump.**

Charlie would have thrown up if she actually had anything left to throw up. Instead, she dry-heaved, dropping the crossbow in the process. She forced herself to move, forced herself not to look at Lily's body, forced her legs to move as she ran back through the trees and towards where she had heard Miles scream.

She saw him through the trees barely a minute from where she had been only moments ago. She saw the two-approaching dead, saw Miles frozen by fear, and pumped her legs faster to get to him. Charlie barely stopped as she gripped him by the back of his shirt and hauled his ass off the ground. She didn't flinch when he turned to her with his fist raised, his eyes wide and full of fear.

She balled her fists into the front of his flannel shirt as she dragged him closer to her and further away from the couple. "Get to the car," she hissed, her eyes not leaving the couple and inwardly cussing herself for dropping her gun earlier that day. "Now!" she yelled when he just stared at her, pushing him forward and staying just behind him. Every now and again, when he stumbled or began to slow down, she'd give him a light push, a silent _'hurry the fuck up, kid' _as they made their way towards the awaiting car.

Charlie jumped into the driver's side, ignoring Jennifer yelling at her to tell her what the fuck was going on. She turned the key in the ignition, put the car into gear, and floored it out of there. Now that the danger was over, Charlie's mind kept flashing back to Lily. She couldn't get the girl's face out of her mind, couldn't stop seeing the spray of blood that had left the back of her head when Charlie had fired the arrow.

"What the fuck is happening?" Jennifer screamed, her loud voice breaking through Charlie's thoughts if only for a moment.

"They're infected," Charlie answered, her voice hoarse and monotonous even to her own ears. She felt an emptiness forming inside her, hell, she'd felt it form when she had bashed Harrison's head in earlier that day. The emptiness had grown when she had shot that soldier in the chest and seemed to grow again when she had killed Lily. It was weightless and yet, she felt like she'd be crushed under its intensity.

"How do you know?" Miles breathed from beside her.

Charlie grunted, "it wasn't them." A moment of silence as she waited for happiness to fill her at the knowledge that her family could still be alive and out there. The happiness never came, the emptiness where it might have once been. "It wasn't my brother or kids," she elaborated when no one else spoke. She supposed she was just trying to drown out the thoughts in her head by explaining things to them. Trying to drown out the voices that were telling her she was a murderer. A monster. Harrison she could have lived with. The soldier she would have dwelled upon but eventually gotten over. But Lily? She had been a damn kid, barely older than her daughter. How was she supposed to move on from killing a kid?

"Some other couple must have been campin' up there with their kids. One of 'em must have gotten bit or scratched; killed the others," she finished, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel as she gritted her teeth tightly.

"But-but they weren't dead!" Miles yelled, "they were walking! The dead don't walk!"

"They do now," Charlie replied, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

They drove in silence after that for close to an hour before she couldn't deal with it anymore and suddenly pulled over to the side of the road, turned off the car, and got out. Charlie walked away from the car until she couldn't walk anymore and fell into a crouch. The numbness had given way to the emptiness that had been steadily growing since this morning. She had known shit was going to hit the fan, but she never imagined she'd be killing soldiers and teenagers.

A pitiful sound reached her ears and it took her a moment to realise it was coming from her. Charlie's shoulders shook as she tried to muffle the sobs that her body was releasing against her will. Now wasn't the time for crying. She had to clear her head and try and work out where the hell her brother and kids could be and she couldn't do that while she was sobbing on some backroad.

She heard the sound of a car door opening and gravel crunching under a pair of shoes. Charlie listened to the sound of approaching footsteps as she tried to take in deep, even breaths. Miles' dirty converses came into view just before he crouched before her, his Bambi eyes wide and searching as they moved between her hands and her face.

Charlie looked down when she felt his hand gently grasp her wrist and pull her hand towards him before he started rubbing at it with a damp shirt. When the blood was cleaned as much as possible, he switched to her other hand and began the process again. She watched his face as he did this, taking in his puffy eyes and pale skin. His fingers on either side of her chin made her stiffen for a moment only to relax when he merely used his grip to hold her face still as he cleaned the blood from her face.

"I don't know what happened back there," he told her softly, still holding her face as he searched her eyes for something, "and I'm not going to ask either." His hand fell from her face and threaded around her neck before he pulled her to him in an awkward hug. "I'm going to tell you something a wise and pretty badass woman once told me," he continued as she fisted the material of his shirt, "you're not alone in this. I know I can't replace what you lost, and I'm not planning on trying, but I'm not going to leave you to fend for yourself either, okay?"

Charlie cracked a small smile as she buried her head in his neck and listened to him recite her words from earlier that day.

"They're out there, Charlie," he whispered into her hairline, "they're out there, and they're alive. We'll find them. I promise. But in the meantime, we've got to stay alive. So, take a deep breath and get your ass up so we can get outta here."

"When did you become so pushy?" she asked hoarsely, even as she took a deep breath as he had ordered.

"I'm not pushy," he chuckled, "I'm stubbornly insistent."

Charlie snorted before they pulled away from each other and Miles helped her to her feet, handing her a bundle of fabric as he tossed away the bloodstained shirt he had been using to clean her up with. She nodded her head at him, a silent 'thank you' for verbally kicking her ass into gear before she shrugged on the oversized military jacket and zipped it up to cover her exposed body.

They made their way back to the car and, whilst Miles went to the front of the car and climbed into the passenger seat, Charlie went to the back and rummaged through the trunk of the military Humvee until she found the duffel she had placed her guns in. Charlie pulled out the 9mm and checked to make sure the magazine was full before she put it to the side as she loaded the shotgun. She strapped one of the knives to her thigh, the knife her uncle Benny had given her after she had killed her first rabbit when she was ten. She grabbed two more knives to give to Miles and Jennifer before she grabbed the two guns and made her way around the car and to the driver's side door.

"Here," she said when she hopped in, handing a knife to Miles and leaning over the driver's seat to hand one to Jennifer.

"Where are we going?" Jennifer asked as she took the knife and placed it beside her on the back seat.

Charlie paused for a moment, thinking about the answer to Jennifer's question. "I don't know," she sighed, "what we all need right now is sleep. In the mornin' we'll find a gas station and fill up the tank, get a few supplies, and figure out what we're gonna do next."

They each threw out their own goodnight before everyone hunkered down and tried to get some sleep.

* * *

Charlie was staring out of the Humvee, looking at the stars as they shined brightly in the darkness. Loud, obnoxious snores filled the vehicle but she had learnt to drown them out. Not everyone was as lucky as her.

"How can someone so small make noises_ that _loud?" Miles asked incredulously as he threw a look back at the sleeping Jennifer.

Charlie snorted, looking back at her blonde companion through the review mirror. Jennifer's head was tilted back, her mouth open as ear-rattling snores fell from them. "No idea," she answered as she lazily turned her head to look at the teenager sitting beside her. "Can't sleep?" she asked softly. Miles had been asleep for about an hour before she had heard him startle awake, calling for his mum.

She didn't say anything as she heard him sniffle softly, merely placed her hand on his knee and left it there as a form of silent comfort. They'd sat in silence for another hour before Jennifer's snores had filled the Humvee, making both of them jump at the sudden sound. They had shared a tense look and a nervous chuckle before their comfortable silence had descended upon them once more.

"Could ask you the same thing," he retorted as he turned in his seat to face her a little more, "you had a head injury earlier, you should be sleeping."

"Should be doin' a lot of things, kid," she grunted, "sleepin' in a stolen military Humvee while the dead walk isn't one of those things. Hell, it sounds like some cliché bullshit you'd find on TV."

Miles snorted, "yeah, I guess."

Silence.

"My mum was a nurse," Miles said, his eyes trained out the window as he spoke, "she was working a double shift to take me to Atlanta for my birthday in two weeks. When she came home, she told me she was tired, that some guy attacked her at work. He had bitten her," he whispered, his voice ragged, "who bites people who are trying to help them, right?" He laughed bitterly, "when I saw the news report about the virus, I didn't want to believe it because-"

Charlie looked at him as his voice broke. Silent tears were falling down his cheek as he took a deep, shaky breath. "-because it would mean she was infected," she finished for him, her hand moving to lay atop his as she watched his shoulders shake. "You couldn't have done anythin', kid," she told him, "I know that doesn't make you feel any better. Hell, probably makes you feel like utter shit; but you need to know that nothin' that happened to your Ma was your fault, okay?"

"She shouldn't have been working that shift," he argued, "she never worked nights. If I didn't want to go to Atlanta, she never would have been at the hospital when that guy was brought in."

"You're right," she agreed, earning an incredulous look from the teenager who had probably been expecting her to argue against the fact and tell him it wasn't his fault that his mum had been working that night. "Had you not wanted to go to Atlanta, she wouldn't have been workin' and she wouldn't have been bit by that guy," she continued bluntly, "who knows, maybe she'd be alive and here with us. Maybe she'd be sleepin' in the back, or tryin' to with Jen snoring anyway."

Miles' shoulders sagged with each word she spoke and he jumped when Charlie placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing firmly as she looked him square in the eyes, her own eyes stern.

"And maybe she would have lasted a month, maybe two, hell, maybe she'd last a couple years in this ensuin' shitstorm. Sooner or later, she'd get bit, or scratched, or die from somethin' that would have been treatable at a hospital – because God knows they ain't gonna been runnin' for much longer – then what, kid? If those soldiers hadn't killed ya Ma, would you have been able to do it?" she questioned coldly, watching as his eyes widened with the realisation of where she was going with this, "would you have been able to look ya Ma in the eyes and put a bullet through her brain? Cause I know, if it were my Ma, I'd rather have her infect me then kill 'er."

"We're all going to die, aren't we?" he asked in a small voice that made her remember just how young he was and suddenly Charlie felt bad for how she had chosen to word her argument.

"Yes," she decided to answer truthfully, it wasn't like she could put her foot in her mouth any worse than she already had, right? "But that was true before the world went to shit," she continued, "now? We just have one more way to go. Nothin' lasts forever, kid."

More silence. Charlie was looking out the window and could feel Miles' eyes on her, boring a hole into the side of her head so to speak. She knew what he wanted to know, knew he was resisting the urge to ask the question. Charlie didn't know what Jennifer had told him but it seemed to keep him quiet. When the ten-minute mark passed and she could _still _feel his eyes on her she finally snapped.

"Just ask already, kid," she grunted.

She heard him splutter for a moment but wasn't going to say anything until he asked, all too happy to draw out the rapidly approaching conversation. She wouldn't lie to him, way the world was, no one had time for lies or even half-truths. He was right, they were all gonna die, sooner or later; Charlie just hoped, when her time came, someone would put a bullet through her brain before she came back as one of those _things _because she knew she'd never be able to do it herself. Her survival instincts were just too strong. You didn't survive the shit she'd lived through by rolling over and showing your belly.

"How-how did you get-get your scars?" he stuttered.

Charlie sighed deeply, wishing she had some alcohol, maybe some cigarettes. She wasn't a heavy drinker, growing up with a drunk for a father had been enough to turn her off the substance before she was even old enough to drink it. With that said, she didn't smoke too often either, usually, she reserved it for times when she was particularly stressed. So, now seemed like a pretty good time for a cigarette or two.

"That's a long, complicated answer, kid," she said, "so, which ones do you really wanna know about, cause I ain't gonna tell you how I got 'em all."

He was quiet for so long she had started to think he had thought better about learning the answer to his question. Then, after a long five minutes, he spoke again. "You-your back," he answered.

_Good choice, kid,_ she thought, her lips curling into a bitter smile. The ones that littered her back were some of her oldest.

"I was nine," she began, ignoring his sharp inhale of air, "Ma had sent me down to the store to get a few things. On the way home, I got caught in a downpour," she continued, remembering that day with startling clarity, as she did whenever she recalled a day she was punished for anything she may have done wrong. "Pa had been drinkin', the man was always drinkin'," she scoffed, "spent most of our money on alcohol; money Ma had earned workin' herself to the bone. I knew the rules," she explained, refusing to meet Miles' gaze, "dry off before you go into the house. But I was cold and scared of the thunder and lightnin' so I just ran right in.

"My Pa had been waitin' for me to get home, probably hopin' for a reason to punish me 'like I deserved to be'," Charlie rolled her eyes as she recalled the mantra her Pa would repeat to them when he would punish her or Bobby. "Don't really remember much after that," she shrugged, "woke up to Ma and Pa shoutin' in the livin' room as Bobby worked on cleanin' up my back after Pa had taken the cane to it again."

When she finally turned to him, she frowned, "now don't you go pityin' me," she told him sternly, "I don't need it, nor do I want it. Doesn't change what happened and certainly won't help you any right now, either."

"Why didn't your mum leave him?" Miles asked.

Charlie's eyes softened, "fear," she breathed, "fear has a way of diggin' its claws in so deep it makes a strong woman cower in the presence of a violent man." She wasn't sure if she was talking about her mother or herself anymore as she fell silent.

"He died," she said after a moment, "drank himself to death when I was sixteen."

She remembered feeling grief, relief, and guilt. It was the guilt that had chased her into the arms of someone who made her forget why she was feeling that way. Her childhood bully. A boy who had turned into a young man that had seemed like the exact opposite of her abusive pig of a father. She should have known better. Myers had been far more dangerous than her father ever was. The whole town knew about her fathers drinking habit; knew that he beat them and the town had done nothing about it. Not once.

Charlie physically shook herself, not allowing those thoughts to continue their destructive path as she turned away from the silent teenager.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm not," she replied simply.

They remained silent until the sun began its slow ascent across the sky, neither of them finding any sleep that night as they became lost in their own thoughts.

* * *

Charlie pulled up at the empty gas station and looked around cautiously. "Okay," she began, turning to address Miles who had been trying to strap the knife to his thigh like she had done the previous day, "gas first. Then we go in and grab as much as we can. If it's not food, water, or somethin' of equal use, it doesn't come with us. That includes Busty magazines," she added with a pointed look at the teenager who flushed deeply.

"I was holding it for a friend!" he argued.

Jennifer scoffed from her spot in the back, "sure, if by 'friend' you mean little Miles," she snickered.

"Shut up!" Miles yelled at her.

"How 'bout you make me, kid?" she replied with a cocky raise of her eyebrow.

"So, help me God, if you two do not shut it right now I may just shoot you both," Charlie hissed, "you've been goin' at it all damn mornin' and ya givin' me a headache!" She turned to glare at Miles and continued speaking, "keep ya ears and eyes open, kid," she instructed, "they're loud and slow. Not to mention you can smell 'em pretty easily too. You see one, you alert me and we hightail it outta there. No playin' hero, got it?"

"Got it," Miles answered with a nervous nod of his head.

"What about me?" Jennifer asked from the back.

Charlie looked back at the younger woman, "ain't nothin' you can do until ya leg is healed," she told her simply, "that shard of glass wasn't too long but it was quite wide. You won't be usin' ya leg until the wound doesn't need stitches to hold it together anymore."

Jennifer huffed but didn't otherwise say a word and Charlie turned back to Miles in time to see the teenager reaching for her shotgun. He yelped when she slapped his hand, his wide eyes snapping up to meet her narrowed ones. "What the hell do you think ya doin'?" she questioned.

"Just in case-"

"-just in case, nothin', kid," she cut him off, "you see one of those people, you run. No need for a damn gun and I especially ain't givin' you a gun when you probably have no experience usin' the damn thing."

"I've used a gun before!" he exclaimed.

"A gun that isn't otherwise attached to or apart of a video game, kid," she added, watching as he crossed his arms over his chest and pouted. "Besides," she continued, "I've got the 9mm and if we_ really _need to resort to such a loud method of protection, _I'll _be firin' the gun and _you'll _be gettin' ya skinny little ass back here like the hounds of hell are nippin' at ya damn heels. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am," he grumbled, throwing a dirty look over his shoulder when Jennifer burst out into laughter.

Charlie grunted before she and Miles got out of the car. He watched her back while she filled up the tank and one of the jerry cans she had found in the back of the Humvee before she picked up a small backpack and tossed it over her shoulder. Miles followed her lead with a bag of his own before they made their way into the gas station.

She entered first, hand already on the gun tucked into the space between her belt and her cargo pants. Charlie looked around before she threw a look over her shoulder and gave Miles a nod. They both went their separate ways and Charlie walked over to the fridges to get water. The place had already been rummaged through but whoever had been doing it had left in a hurry and left a few bottles of water behind. Apparently, whoever had been raiding the station had gone straight for the energy drinks and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Beef Jerky. Crackers. Tuna. Sardines. Charlie packed anything that wouldn't perish on them in a matter of days and shoved them in her bag until she couldn't fit any more stuff in it. Every now and again, her head would shoot up and she'd look around the station. When she spied Miles' head, she'd calm down a little and go back to what she was doing.

"You ready, kid?" she called across the station.

"Yeah," Miles answered and Charlie was just moving past the counter when she spied the cigarette packets.

She knew she should have just left them, cigarettes weren't exactly a necessity right now. Charlie shook her head as she jumped over the counter and moved towards the cigarettes, shoving a few packs in the already over full bag before she placed two packs in each of the pockets of her cargo pants. A few lighters were shoved into another pocket before she shrugged the bag back onto her shoulders and went to jump over the counter.

Only to freeze when she heard shuffling and groaning.

"Oh shit," she heard Miles breathe and Charlie looked up to see one of the dead had made their way into the main store from a back room. Miles' eyes met hers and she put her finger to her lips to tell him to be quiet.

Charlie quietly scaled the counter and latched on to Miles, her eyes not leaving the walking corpse stumbling down the aisle furthest from them. "Just be quiet," she whispered into his ear, "they're slow, we get out the door and we run to the car."

Miles nodded silently beside her and she backed up with him.

A scream pierced the air.

Jennifer.

Charlie and Miles turned to see another corpse stumbling near the Humvee, its hands banging against the door as it registered someone was inside. Not good. Jennifer's scream had drawn the attention of the other walking corpse in the station and Charlie quickly shoved Miles out the door. "Run," she hissed, picking up the bag he had dropped and practically tossing it at him before they both started running towards the Humvee.

Jennifer was still screaming, the sound echoing in the eerily silent town as they got closer and closer to the Humvee. Charlie was already pulling out the 9mm and taking the safety off, knowing she'd need to use it so Miles could get into the car. The teen slowed down the closer they got to the car and Charlie had to grab his arm and drag him along beside her as she got close enough to the corpse that she wouldn't miss.

**Bang.**

**Thump.**

Jennifer screamed. Miles gagged. Charlie opened the passenger door and shoved the teenager in before she ran around the side of the car.

**Bang.**

**Thump.**

The second corpse dropped and she practically flung herself into the Humvee. Jennifer was still screaming. Miles was still gagging, his face pale. Charlie's heart was beating out a staccato in her chest as she turned the key and threw the car into gear. The emptiness in her chest stretched a little more as she thought about the people she had just killed. Four. Four people now. Two living. Two dead. Could the dead still count as people anymore? Her brain said no but the emptiness that was growing in her chest said yes. Yes, they were still people, and she had just killed them.

Charlie tried to take in a deep breath but nothing she did and nothing she thought about seemed to fill the emptiness forming inside of her. An emptiness _she _had created. An emptiness she doubted would ever get filled and would likely grow until it consumed her.

A hand on her thigh and one on her shoulder grounded her and Charlie managed to take in the deep breath she had been attempting to take in. Her eyes met Miles' when she looked to him and Jennifer's when her gaze went to the review mirror. All of them were pale and sweaty. All of them were scared and none of them had any idea what they were going to do next.

But they had each other. It wasn't much, but in this new world, it was better than being alone.

But how long could that really last in a world now filled with the walking dead?

* * *

**Don't forget to fave/follow and please take some time out to leave me a comment below; I love hearing what my readers have to say and take their comments into consideration when I'm writing.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Two weeks. That's how long they'd been together when they found the newest addition to their pathetic little post-apocalyptic family. They were heading towards Atlanta, finally going to search for her family. All of them had heard the radio transmissions, the government telling people to head to the CDC in Atlanta. They said it was _safe _but the further they drove and the more abandoned cars they saw, the faster her hope of seeing her family alive plummeted.

They'd been about twenty minutes outside of the city when they drove past a group of maybe a dozen Roamers, as Miles had taken to calling them. Apparently, the kid wasn't comfortable calling them Stiffs and Charlie had decided to make his new life a little easier on him by calling them Roamers too. Jennifer, on the other hand, got a kick out of making Miles as uncomfortable as possible by coming up with as many ridiculous names as she could for them. Charlie had rolled her eyes when the woman had simply shrugged and told her she needed to get her entertainment from somewhere and the kid was too easy to rile up.

"What's that?" Miles asked.

"Roamers," Charlie answered with an 'are you stupid?' look thrown at the teenager.

"Not that," he replied, shaking his head at the small group, "_that_."

He was pointing at the car they seemed to be crowded on the side of and Charlie watched as something small came flying out of the car window and into the head of the nearest Roamer. There was a spray of blood before the Roamer fell back, really dead this time. "It can't be a gun," she said, craning her neck like that would help her see what the hell was going on, "there wasn't any noise."

"Silencer?"

Charlie threw a look at him, "do you think people just_ have _silencers lyin' about the place?" she questioned him. She shook her head before he could answer and felt her fingers tighten around the steering wheel. "Everyone wearin' a seatbelt?" she asked rhetorically.

"You're not going to-" Jennifer was cut off as Charlie stepped on the gas and they were all thrown back by the force of the car flying forward. "You're fucking crazy?!" the blonde woman screamed.

Miles whooped as he held on tightly.

The impact of ramming into the group of Roamers sent them all forwards, the seatbelts digging into their skin as they strained to do their job. Charlie gritted her teeth against the impact, throwing the Humvee into reverse and running over any of the Roamers unlucky enough to find themselves under the tires.

"Stay in the car," she told Miles as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"But-"

"Miles! Stay in the damn car!"

"Okay!"

Charlie removed her knife from where it was always strapped to her thigh and gripped it tightly as she got out of the car. Her gun was strapped to her other thigh but Charlie much preferred the knife so they wouldn't draw more Roamers to themselves.

She barely flinched as she drove the blade into the heads of any of the Roamers still alive on the ground after she'd run them over. Charlie huffed with the strain of removing her knife from one of the heads and had just gotten it out and stood up when she came face to face with a man that was probably a few years older than her. He had curly dark hair and dark eyes, a bit of a beard, and was currently pointing a slingshot at her.

"Really?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

The man didn't say anything, just pulled the slingshot back further before letting whatever was on it shoot forwards. It whizzed past her ear, and she turned just in time to see it exit the head of a Roamer that had been coming up behind her. "Damn it," she hissed, mentally berating herself for her momentary lapse in attention.

"Who the hell are you, darlin'?" the man asked, eyeing her from head to toe.

Charlie glared at him, "I'm the person who just saved your life," she answered him blithely.

The man scoffed, lowered his slingshot and turned his back to her as he leaned into the car he had just climbed out of. She bristled at the action, in this world you knew not to turn your back on anyone because _everyone_ was a threat in some way or another. The man's actions basically said he didn't think she was a threat and it tickled a particularly sour piece of her mind as she watched him pull out a small backpack and a box of ball bearings.

"I'd say _I _saved _your _life, sweetheart," he told her simply as he walked past her, his shoulder bumping hers and causing her anger to spike. She watched him approach the Humvee and open the passenger side. "Get lost, kid," he told Miles as Charlie stomped her way over to them, "ain't no way I'm ridin' in the back."

"Who says you're ridin' with us at all?" Charlie bit out.

She watched his hand move to the pocket of his jacket and saw the glint of a blade as he began to turn around. "I think-" he trailed off as he saw the gun she had pointed at his head, her eyes burning with her anger at being treated like she hadn't just saved his damn life and the way he was treating Miles. The kid was a pain in her ass but she wasn't going to let some asshole tell him what to do. "-think we got off on the wrong foot," he finished lamely, his eyes darkening with his own barely controlled temper. She did see the small bit of respect flash in his eyes though as he raised both his hands, the small hunting knife in one hand and his slingshot in the other. "Name's Harley," he introduced.

"After the motorcycle?" Miles asked curiously and Charlie rolled her eyes. _Thump._"Hey!" Miles yelled as Jennifer whacked him upside the head, "what the hell was that for?!"

"Being an idiot," she heard Jennifer say from the back of the car, "now, shut up before I do it again!"

Miles grumbled lowly and Charlie saw amusement shining in Harley's eyes as his lips stretched into a small grin.

"Where ya headed, Harley?" she asked, gun still raised and pointed at the spot between his eyes.

"Anywhere but here," was his simplistic reply as he shrugged his shoulders, "the whole damn city's been overrun by the dead."

"What about the CDC?" she questioned, feeling a weight forming in her stomach.

Harley scoffed, "how'd you think the city got overrun so fast? Everyone who heard that damn transmission went there. Even the ones already infected. Damn bloodbath, only people who survived were those of us furthest from the buildin' when the military opened fire on everyone."

Charlie had grown more and more pale as he spoke, her arm falling to her side as she stared off in the direction of the city. Even from where they were, she could see smoke rising above the buildings.

"-when the military got overrun the government decided to send out a big 'fuck you' and started droppin' napalm on the damn city," Harley continued, not really noticing Charlie's rapidly paling face.

A hand on her shoulder roused her from her ever darkening thoughts and she looked up to see Jennifer standing beside her, glaring fiercely at Harley as she gripped Charlie's shoulder tightly. It was both for comfort and support, Jennifer still not fully capable of walking on her healing leg just yet. The infection she was just getting over probably hadn't helped that any. Her eyes met Charlie's and she tried to put on a brave, hopeful face for the older woman but Charlie knew Jennifer was having the same thoughts as she was.

Her family was _gone. _Whether they were Roamers, dead, or had by some miracle, managed to escape the city, they were _gone _and she didn't even know if it was worth looking for them. Could she put herself through that? Searching desperately through the city in a desperate bid to find her family? What if she found them and they _were _Roamers? What then? She'd never be able to put them down as she had to do to many others over the last two weeks.

"Shit," Harley muttered, finally registering the silent looks passed between the two women, "you have someone in there?"

She nodded, that familiar numb feeling beginning to return again as her shaky hand came up to rub at her face. "My, uh, brother and-and kids," she managed to get out, her heart breaking at the thought of never seeing her family again before she pushed the emotions behind the wall she had been forming in her mind since all this shit began.

"I'm sorry," Harley said softly, "maybe they got out. They could still be around here somewhere."

Charlie shook her head. She didn't want false hope. She didn't want to spend whatever was left of her miserable existence searching behind every tree in the woods hoping to catch a glance of little Jackson's red hair or her daughter's smooth curls. She didn't want to allow her heart to go on believing she might someday find her family. This world was cruel and unforgiving, a lesson she had to learn long before the apocalypse. It gave you small moments of happiness, a husband, a brother, a mother, and kids; allowed you to settle into your life before it violently ripped everything you loved away from you.

"It's getting dark," Jennifer stated in a small voice, "we need to find somewhere to set up camp for the night."

Charlie nodded, violently shoving down the dark and desperate thoughts she was having as she placed her gun back in its holster. She glared up at Harley, the man having a few inches on her before she spoke. "You try anythin'," she growled, "and I'll put a bullet through ya skull and leave you out here for the Roamers to snack on."

He didn't flinch at her threat, didn't even bat a damn eyelash as he looked down at her. "Whatever you say, darlin'," he answered as he moved around her, only to stop when they were side by side, "I really am sorry 'bout your family," he whispered, his warm breath fanning over her ear.

She didn't say anything, just moved to help Jennifer into the car before making her way to the driver's side again. They drove back a few miles from Atlanta before they found a worn path, they could get the Humvee through. The camp was set up in a small clearing, only big enough for the Humvee and for each of them to have a place to sleep without being on top of each other.

Charlie helped Jennifer out of the Humvee and settled her down where Miles was beginning to pile sticks for a small fire. She made sure Jennifer was comfortable before moving over to the Humvee, motioning for Harley to follow her so she could get him something to sleep on.

"Your friend," he began when he stood beside her, motioning in the direction Jennifer was sitting with his head, "she bit? Scratched?"

"No," Charlie said, "she got injured 'bout two weeks ago when we jumped outta a second-storey window."

"No shit?!" he exclaimed, his eyebrows raised to his hairline, "and the military grade Humvee? You so badass you just _happened _to have one of these handy?"

She cracked a bitter smile as she thought about how they had acquired their faithful vehicle. "Stole it actually," she told him, "well, Miles stole it."

"The kid?" She nodded, "damn. I might just have to stick around, see what other rad shit you guys get up to." She was silent as she rummaged through the back of the Humvee and stiffened when she felt him lean his body closer to her. "Bet we could have a few interestin' moments ourselves, darlin'," he whispered into her ear.

He looked down when he felt something sharp digging into his inner thigh and his eyes widened when he saw the large knife pressed there by her hand. She watched as he took a large step back, his hands raised in surrender once more as she glared up at him. "Alright, darlin', I can take a hint. Keep my body to myself, yeah?" he said, sending her a wide grin and a cocky wink, "I promise I'll behave," he continued, using his finger to make an invisible cross on his chest, "cross my heart."

She didn't drop her glare but she did put the knife away. Finding the spare sleeping bag from an abandoned car they had raided a couple days ago, Charlie chucked it at him before she headed back to the small circle in the middle of the clearing, making sure her shoulder hit his harshly on the way there. Charlie heard him chuckle and mutter something under his breath that sounded oddly like, 'my kinda woman' before she began helping Miles set up a fire for the night.

A few hours later and she was sitting watch as Miles and Jennifer slept. Harley was sitting across from her and, as promised, he hadn't touched her in any way, shape, or form since she had threatened him earlier. Charlie knew she had overreacted, but in a world with no more rules, she needed to overreact to get her point across. She wasn't going to sleep with a man she hardly knew simply because the world had ended. Charlie hadn't been intimate with a man since before her husband had been deployed.

It wasn't for lack of trying by the opposite sex either. Intimacy had never come easily to Charlie. Growing up, she'd never had an example of a healthy relationship. Her Pa would emotionally and physically beat her mother who would cower away from the enraged man. Then, when he was done, _she'd _apologise, like it had been _her _fault. It wasn't just intimacy of a sexual or romantic kind that she lacked either. Charlie couldn't even remember if her Pa had ever hugged her, let alone told her he loved her.

Scott had been the first man in a very long time that had stuck around after learning the emotional baggage she lugged around with her. He'd seen the weight of what she had been carrying around most of her life and instead of running, he had shouldered it with her, taking the burden off of her enough for her to learn that life wasn't just filled with bad things. Good things happened too. Her brother. Scott. Olivia and Jackson. Miles and Jennifer. Her mum. Yes, good things did happen, but they didn't _last_.

Charlie sighed, coming back to the present as she dug around in her pocket for her pack of cigarettes. She placed one between her lips and fished for her lighter before lighting the cigarette. Her body relaxed a little as she inhaled the sweet nicotine, her mind quieting as the cigarette dangled precariously from her lips.

Seeing Harley's eyes on her, she held out the packet and the lighter, not saying a word as he stood up and moved to sit closer to her. She had her gun on her lap, her eyes searching the tree line every now and again as she listened out for the familiar shuffling and groaning sound of the Roamers. They were still close enough to the highway that one could potentially stumble upon their campsite and Charlie wasn't willing to lose anyone else today.

"Ain't healthy holdin' that shit in," Harley said after a moment of silence. At first, Charlie thought he had been talking about the cigarette until he continued, "I ain't even seen you shed a tear after hearin' your kids might be dead. Keepin' that grief bottled up? S'not healthy."

"Never claimed to be healthy," she replied drearily, "worlds changed. You live. You get bit. You die. You come back. You die again. That's just how it is now. No time to mourn the dead when ya fightin' to survive another day in this shithole."

Harley nodded, a look in his eyes that put Charlie on edge. "Yeah," he finally said, "you're right. Probably a good thing too; cause if your kids were still alive, you'd never be able to keep 'em that way." Charlie's head snapped to look at him so fast she felt her neck crack, her eyes dark and anger flaring in her chest as she watched him nonchalantly shrug his shoulders and take another drag of the cigarette. "Now, they don't need to see just how fucked up their mother is," he continued, "don't need to know she gave up on them. That they meant absolutely fuck all-"

His words were cut off as Charlie tackled him, her body pinning his beneath her as she punched him in the face. Hot tears stung her eyes as she struck at him blindly, anger and grief washing over her like a tidal wave. His large, callused hands, wrapped around her wrists, gripping them tightly as he bucked her off him and flipped them so he was pinning her beneath his weight. He was bigger than her, but she was angrier.

She brought her knee up and into his groin, missing her mark but hitting close enough to knock the air out of him and get him to roll off her. Charlie jumped to her feet and kicked him in the stomach, ignoring the whoosh of air as she went to repeat the action. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her leg out harshly from beneath her, making Charlie fall to the ground. She vaguely felt her head hit the ground but she was too damn angry to care and sent her fist into his face again, barely registering the pain that shot up her hand as she did.

"Fuck you!" she cried, sitting on top of him again as she continued to punch him in the face. Who the fuck was he to tell her she didn't care about her kids? _Punch. _Who the hell did he think he was saying that she'd not be able to protect them? _Punch. _She'd die for them! _Punch. Punch. _They were her fucking children and she would walk through hell to make sure they were safe. The weight of the news finally hit her, the wall she had been pushing her emotions behind crumbling with each punch to Harley's face.

Eventually, her hits grew sluggish and her body collapsed in on itself. She fell forward, large arms wrapping around her as she cried and screamed into a hard chest to muffle the sound. They were _gone_. Her kids, her brother, gone, and she didn't know if she could handle it. The emotional pain alone threatened to cripple her as she continued to hit weakly at Harley's chest as the older man simply pressed her head into his chest to further muffle her sounds. His hand was at her neck, the other at her back and above her waist as he pulled her to him and let her cry. He didn't shush her; didn't tell her it was going to be okay. Instead, he whispered three little words on repeat, "let it out."

And she did. She cried and she screamed and she whacked at him until her body exhausted itself and she felt herself being dragged into the darkness.

* * *

Harley winced as he held the sleeping woman to him. He knew what he said had been cruel, but it had also been necessary. Holding all that shit back had been crushing her, he had seen it plain as day and had recalled another person that had been on the same path. He hadn't been able to help him and, in the end, it had cost him someone he cared about. So, Harley had done what he does best, he had gotten under her skin. He had pushed all the right buttons and he had done so like he didn't feel absolutely rotten for the things he was saying.

He managed to get to his feet and picked Charlie up bridal style. The woman didn't trust easily it would seem, not that he could blame her, and he'd only learnt her name because he had heard the kid, Miles, using it as they were all driving earlier. She didn't weigh much but he strained to lift her as his body screamed at him. Charlie certainly packed a punch, and the built-up rage, guilt, fear, and grief had only made those punches more powerful.

He heard rustling and looked over to see Jennifer watching him cautiously as he lowered Charlie onto her sleeping bag. She studied his face for a moment before her eyes went to Charlie's still form and then back to him. "Thank you," she said honestly, relief clear on her face as she sat up, "she's been holdin' it all in since this shit started. I didn't know what to do to break through to her; though, I don't think I would have been as eager to let someone break my face, even if it did help them."

"I've had worse," he told her simply as he moved back to where he and Charlie had been sitting against the Humvee earlier. He lowered himself gingerly, knowing he was going to have a bunch of pretty bruises soon enough. His eyes found the sleeping woman and he couldn't find it in him to care about the bruises. Not if it helped her. Maybe if he could help her, it would make up for the life he had failed to save. Maybe meeting her today had been God's way of giving him the chance he had given up on so long ago. He didn't know, but he had no intentions of leaving the little group he had found himself in.

"Still," Jennifer said, laying back down and making herself comfortable again, "thank you, Harley."

"You're welcome, darlin'," he replied before she closed her eyes and silence filled the air once more.

Harley placed a new cigarette to his lips, lighting it and taking a heavy drag from it before he let it sit between his first and second finger. He watched the smoke leave his lips and float off before his eyes fell to the gun Charlie had dropped earlier before she had attacked him. Picking it up, Harley placed it on his lap and settled in for the rest of the night. Watching over the others as they slept.

A hopeful smile stretched across his bloodied face as he sent up a silent prayer to the man upstairs.

* * *

Charlie had been horrified with herself when she had woken up the next morning to see the damage she had dealt to Harley's face. She spent the hour following that patching him up and profusely apologising. Harley waved her apologies off with a mumbled 'kinda deserved it, darlin'' and a cocky grin that quickly turned into a wince when she had dabbed at a particularly sensitive cut with an alcohol wipe.

All the while, Jennifer was grinning like the cat that got the canary and Miles was just sitting with his mouth agape as he looked at what Charlie had done to the man. A few of the cuts had needed butterfly stitches and it made Charlie feel even more guilty as she took extra care with those cuts. She did feel better though, not in a sense that everything was going to be okay, but in a way that she no longer felt like she was drowning in her own emotions.

"Thank you," she had whispered to him softly as she fixed up the last of his cuts.

"Don't mention it, darlin'," had been his reply before they fell into silence as everyone ate breakfast.

It was now midday and Harley, Miles, Jennifer, and Charlie were gathered around the front of the Humvee as they looked over a street directory. "That's the CDC," Harley said, pointing out the building on the map, "when the military started gunnin' folks down, people made for the streets, others fled to the highway. I've been wonderin' up and down that highway for a few days before I took refuge in that damn mini-van before ya'll found me, shoulda filled up my gas tank before the dead decided to start eatin' people, huh?

"I saw a lot of folks with kids makin' for the highway but none of 'em looked like your lot," he continued, pointing at the picture of her brother and kids that had been placed on the car above the directory, "which leaves us a whole fuckin' city to search. Know anywhere they might have gone? Somewhere they felt safe?"

Charlie nodded, "a few places, but we should start here first," she said, pointing to a small street she knew to be filled with apartments.

"Any particular reason why?" Jennifer asked, looking up at Charlie as she chewed on some gum Miles had found in a small convenience store a couple days ago.

"Hayley," Charlie replied, "my brother's ex-wife. She lives in an apartment on that street with Samantha, my brother's fifteen-year-old daughter. If somethin' was goin' on in Atlanta, I have no doubt that's where my brother would go. He'd wanna get Sam and Hayley outta the city too."

Harley nodded, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth before he spoke again. "Okay, Charlie and I can easily maneuver the streets-" he began only to be cut off by Jennifer.

"-not gonna happen, buddy," she said, "we don't even_ know _you and you want us to let you take Charlie into a city that is potentially crawling with Roamers? Not a chance," she scoffed.

"You can barely walk without assistance," Harley retorted, "and the kid looks like a strong wind will knock him on his ass-"

"-hey!-"

"-and we haven't got time to go back for anyone who falls behind," he continued, undeterred by Miles' shout, "so, yes, Charlie and_ I _will be goin' into Atlanta and you two," he pointed between Jennifer and Miles, "will stay here and mind the camp."

"Mind the camp?!" Jennifer and Miles shouted together and Charlie sighed heavily, her hand coming up to rub her face tiredly.

Charlie took in a deep breath before she looked up at the people in front of her. She didn't like the plan any more than Jennifer and Miles. She didn't know Harley and honestly, she wasn't sure if he wanted to get her alone so he could feed her to a Roamer for busting up his face the night before. _He could have done that last night,_ her mind supplied her; after all, she had left her gun just lying about. He hadn't killed her though; in fact, he returned her gun to her this morning as he was waking her up.

She also wasn't too keen about leaving Jennifer and Miles here. They hadn't been separated since day one, which occasionally meant they saw more of each other than they really wanted too. Jennifer and Miles were her lifelines in this new world, something to keep her moving when she felt like lying down and letting the world take her.

"I don't like this either," she told them both slowly, "but it's the best plan we got and I ain't wastin' precious daylight while ya'll argue about who the hell is comin' into Atlanta.

"Besides, Harley has a point," she continued, "you can't walk properly, Jen, if we gotta run ya gonna be swamped by Roamers; and Miles, I ain't riskin' ya life, kid, not for a trip that shouldn't take any more than a couple hours, maybe a day."

There were a few more arguments following her statement and Jennifer gave Harley the 'if anything happens to her, I will kill you in the slowest and most painful way possible' talk. Much to Miles' disappointment, Charlie had given Jennifer the shotgun with explicit orders _not _to let Miles get his hands on it. She hadn't yet had the time to teach him to shoot because Roamers were drawn to noise and she didn't want to risk getting them swarmed.

Harley and Charlie spent the next half an hour planning their route to Hayley's apartment, making sure they had at least two different ways to get there and several different ways to get out of the city. She told Jennifer they'd be back by the next afternoon and if they weren't, _not_ to come looking for them. She didn't want to risk hers or Miles' lives in a vain rescue attempt. If they weren't back by the next night then chances were, they were dead and there was no use getting any more people killed trying to rescue dead people.

Miles surprised Charlie when he gave her a tight hug, his tall body towering over hers and his arms tightening around her as he buried his head in her neck. "Come back," he whispered and Charlie felt her heart lurch as his voice caught.

"I ain't leavin' you, kid," she promised.

Jennifer was next, yanking Charlie out of Miles' grasp and pulling her close as she continued to glare at Harley over her shoulder. "If he tries _anything_," she whispered into Charlie's ear, "shoot him and leave him for the Roamers."

"Jen-"

"-I'm serious, Charlie," she interrupted firmly, "if it comes down to you or him coming back, make sure it's you."

"Ready?" Harley called, shrugging on his small backpack.

Charlie pulled away from Jennifer and gave the older man a nod before shouldering her own bag. She gave Jennifer and Miles one last smile and a small wave before she turned and approached Harley.

* * *

They didn't take the Humvee, not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to themselves. Plus, it'd be easier to maneuver the streets on foot anyway.

Whilst the trip had been relatively short by car, it was at least an hour before they were finally _in _Atlanta, making their way downtown to Hayley's apartment building. The sun was high in the air and Charlie's shirt was already soaked in sweat as they moved. Harley had removed his overshirt, continuing in a black wifebeater as he shoved the other shirt in his pack.

"You gonna take that flannel off, darlin'?" he asked, eyeing the obviously hot woman.

She had rolled up the sleeves of the long sleeve flannel shirt she had been wearing for a few days now but it was doing very little to actually keep her cool. Had Miles or Jennifer been with her, Charlie wouldn't have hesitated to take off her shirt; but she didn't know Harley and she wasn't ready for the plethora of questions he'd no doubt ask when he saw her scars.

"I'm fine," she grunted as they moved from building to building, avoiding the Roamers as they went.

"If you're fine, I'm Willy Nelson," he replied as they made their way down an alley that would shave a good amount of their time off.

Charlie rolled her eyes, "Willy Nelson, everybody," she said in an imitation of Jessica Simpson before she scoffed, "you wish you were as cool as Willy Nelson."

"I'm cool!" he exclaimed quietly, not wanting to draw in Roamers.

She sent him a raised eyebrow and a smirk, "Willy Nelson cool?"

Harley was quiet for a moment before he turned and began walking off again, mumbling, "I'm cool," under his breath as she snickered behind him. They continued like that for another three blocks, Harley and Charlie finding a middle ground through a battle of wits.

"I think we're lost," Charlie said after an hour of walking down alleys and running across streets to avoid Roamers.

"We're not lost," Harley argued.

"Ya right," she agreed, "we're just goin' in the wrong direction."

That made Harley pause, bringing his bag around to remove the street directory. She waited silently for him to check it out and smirked when he swore under his breath. Charlie herself had only just figured out they were going the wrong way so she didn't tease him for it, she did send him a cheeky wink when he gave her an exasperated look. "How far are we?" she asked, walking up to him to look at the directory, "s'not too bad," she continued, pointing out the street that was maybe a block or two in the opposite direction they were currently heading, "'bout fifteen minutes that way if we don't run into any complications."

"Smooth sailing so far," Harley said moments before they heard gunshots.

Charlie slapped Harley in the back of the head, glaring at him when he turned to berate her. "You fuckin' jinxed it!" she growled. She was going to keep berating him when she saw someone she recognised, and someone she wished she hadn't seen. "Oh, fuck," she breathed, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the small door in the side of a nearby building. By some miracle, the door was unlocked and Charlie hauled ass into the building, dragging Harley behind her.

She closed the door and leaned her head against the cool metal as she took deep, shaky breaths. That face. She hadn't seen that face in six years and would have lived her whole life happily never having to see that face again.

"Mind tellin' me what the hell that was just about?" Harley asked from behind her.

Whatever she was going to say was cut off when she heard a quiet _thud _and a heavy _thump _before something was striking her over the back of the head and everything went dark.

* * *

"How hard did you hit them?"

"Hard enough to knock 'em out."

"They're survivors! You could have killed them!"

"Had they been Walkers_ they_ would have killed _me!_"

Charlie groaned as she slowly began to come to. The voices immediately fell silent and panic shot through her when she reached for her gun and couldn't find it. Her hand quickly moved for her knife and her panic turned into outright horror when she couldn't find that either.

She jumped up from wherever the hell she had been placed and blindly struck out with her fist. There was a pained yell as her fist connected with the side of someone's face but Charlie was too busy trying not to fall on her ass to bother about that. Her eyes blinked open and her panic only seemed to increase when she came to in a dark, boarded up room; the only light source being a small lantern.

"Damn it!" a voice hissed from somewhere behind her and Charlie wildly swung around to face her attackers.

Where the hell was Harley? Had they killed him? Were they going to kill her? Who were _they _anyway? Charlie stumbled violently as her head spun and her stomach churned. Hands were suddenly gripping her arm and Charlie yelled as she tried to push them away, almost falling over as her vision swam.

"Hey, hey," came a young and calming voice, "you're okay. We're not going to hurt you."

"Bit late for that," she scoffed before she was suddenly doubling over and throwing up.

"See what you did!" the young voice yelled but his anger wasn't directed at her.

"What I did? She punched me in the face!"

Charlie put her hand to the back of her head and was relieved when she only felt a bit of swelling. No blood. That was good. Had she been bleeding, Roamers would pick up her scent a whole lot easier. It'd be like ringing the dinner bell. "Would you both shut up?!" she groaned, allowing the hands to lead her to a nearby chair. "Where's Harley?" she asked.

"Harley?"

"Motherfucker!"

Charlie almost smiled at hearing the familiar voice, but she still felt dizzy and a tad sick. She did manage to look up at the two occupants of the small room she was in. A large, African-American man and a slightly smaller Asian man were standing in front of her. The Asian man had been the one to help steady her and she had apparently punched his companion in the face. Not that she cared; because he had been the one to knock her out apparently. Maybe she should punch him again. Would that be petty of her? Probably.

He was a large man, not fat but more muscular in a way, Charlie assumed he had been an athlete at one point in his life and judging by how toned his legs were, she guessed it was football. He had no hair on his head save for his eyebrows and the small amount on his chin and his dark eyes were currently narrowed at her even as he turned and made his way into the room Harley's voice had just sounded from.

That left her with the Asian. He was a little taller than her, sporting a clean hair cut and some facial fuzz on his upper lip. He looked kind enough but Charlie knew just how deceiving looks could be. She eyed him cautiously as she heard a scuffle in the next room.

"Glenn." His voice drew her attention away from the door the black man had walked through and back to his expressive brown eyes. This kid was like an open book, everything he was thinking and feeling seemed to show in his eyes. "My name, it's Glenn," he continued, "and that was T-Dog," he finished, pointing at the door 'T-Dog' had vanished through. "Sorry about the bump to your head, he thought you guys were Walkers," he told her sincerely.

"Walkers?" she asked, her nose scrunching at the term. Was that what they called the dead?

"Yeah," he nodded, "you know? The dead? Walkers. Because they walk. What do you call 'em?"

Charlie shook her head, her lips tilting a little at his rambling. Miles would get along with Glenn; both of them seemed to be close in age and both of them tended to ramble when they were nervous. "Roamers," she answered.

"Cool," he replied, nodding his head absentmindedly, "uh, what's your name?"

Before she could answer, Harley and T-Dog burst through the door, both of them looked to be in a sort of tug-o-war and Charlie stood up when she noticed they were fighting over her gun. "That's mine," she said simply, her 'mum' voice on as she placed her hands on her hips and glared at the two fighting men. When they stopped and turned to face her, Charlie held her hand out and waited impatiently. Both men looked from her to each other, to the gun, and then back to her before they dropped their heads and Harley handed her the gun. "And my knife," she added, her eyes moving to where T-Dog had strapped her holster to his own leg, the hilt of her knife resting against his thigh.

He grumbled lowly but otherwise returned her knife to her and she placed it back on her thigh after she re-holstered her gun. "Thank you," she said before she turned back to Glenn, "how long were we out?"

"Uh," he began stuttering, not liking the attention being on him all of a sudden, "about an hour? Maybe a little longer?"

She nodded, "and, where are we?"

"Some kind of office," he replied more confidently, "you're still in the same building you entered, we just brought you upstairs in case of Walkers or those dumbasses who were shooting up the street earlier."

"What the fuck's a Walker?" Harley asked.

"It's what they call Roamers," Charlie answered.

"Roamers?"

"It's what they call Walkers," Glenn told T-Dog and Charlie rolled her eyes. They were going in circles.

She found her backpack and stumbled a little when she got up to grab it. Glenn and Harley moved forward, both of them ready to help her if she fell and she waved them both off as she picked up her bag and shrugged it on. "Not that this hasn't been fun," she began, cracking her neck and ignoring the way Glenn flinched at the sound, "but we've got somewhere we need to be and you've just set us back quite a bit."

"We have a camp," Glenn suddenly said as Charlie was reaching for the door handle, the younger man ignoring the incredulous looks his companion was giving him. "There's only a few of us, but we're camped outside of Atlanta. It's protected," he continued like he was trying to convince her to go with them, "you and your husband can come with us."

"We're not together," Charlie and Harley said at once, throwing an amused look at each other before Charlie faced Glenn once more, "it's a nice offer, kid, but we've got people waitin' for us too. You stay safe though, as much as you can in this hellhole."

"We're by this quarry if you change your mind," he told her, "it's not too far but far enough that it's free from Walkers. You should be able to find it easily enough if you have a map."

She nodded, looking at him over her shoulder, a small smile stretching her lips as she opened the door that led to the stairwell. "Thank you, Glenn," she told him sincerely, "I'd say sorry for punchin' you, T-Dog, but I'd be lyin'."

This actually earned her a smile from the silent man, it was a cynical smile, but a smile none the less. "I'd say sorry for knocking you out," he retorted, "but I'd be lying too."

Charlie laughed, nodded, and then waved as she and Harley left the room.

"Well," she began faux cheerfully, "they were nice."

Harley scoffed, "you weren't the one that woke up next to a dead Roamer," he muttered, "talk about favouritism. Bet if I was a woman, I'd have been treated nicer too."

"Don't worry," she soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing firmly as they exited the building after checking to make sure it was clear. They still had enough daylight to make it to the apartment building but they'd have to stay there for the night and return to camp in the morning. If they were lucky, they'd be returning with her family in tow. "I doubt we'll ever see those two again," she finished as they turned out of the alley and continued on their way.

* * *

Glenn watched the door close and the woman and her friend, Harley, leave. He could hear their muffled voices but couldn't make heads or tails of what they were saying before the door downstairs closed and he realised they'd left the building.

"Think we should go after them?" he asked T-Dog, something not settling right with him by letting them leave like that. The woman had thrown up when she woke up, didn't that mean she had a concussion or something? What if something happened while they were out there? Usually, he was more insistent about survivors coming back to their camp, it was safer that way.

He chalked it up to the look in her eyes. First, the 'mum' look she had thrown at T-Dog and her friend when they had been grappling for the gun T-Dog had taken off of her after they'd bought them up here. It was a look he was familiar with, a look his mum would give him and his sisters when they did something she wasn't impressed by. He didn't even know how much he missed that look before the woman had been giving it.

Second, the absolute determination he had seen in her eyes as she shrugged on her backpack and headed for the door. They could have put a gun to her head and he doubted she would have come with them. She was looking for someone, and that look told him she wasn't giving up until she found them. He just hoped, whoever she was looking for, she found alive. _Alive _alive. Not undead alive.

"I think if they wanna get eaten by a bunch of Walkers, that's their choice," T-Dog answered.

Glenn hadn't really expected him to answer any other way. He'd heard the others speaking about his 'bleeding-heart' like it was a bad thing to want to help people. Shane in particular really hated it when he brought newcomers to their camp. Already, they were pushing well over a dozen people. He wasn't going to stop, though, because in this new world they needed to save as many people as they could. If they didn't help people, what did that make them?

A large hand on his shoulder drew Glenn from his thoughts and he looked over to see T-Dog watching him. "Don't worry," he told him, giving him a firm pat before he dropped his hand, "I doubt we'll ever see those two again."

That was what he was afraid of.

* * *

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	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The smell that hit Charlie and Harley when they entered Hayley's apartment made her stomach drop and churn simultaneously. The door had been ajar and Harley had grabbed her waist to stop her from entering only to quickly drop his hands when she had stiffened. He apologized, throwing her a knowing glance she didn't like in the slightest, before he motioned for her to let him go first. Charlie had scoffed and then they had both proceeded to have a silent argument about who was going first, their arms gesticulating wildly as they glared at each other.

Eventually, Charlie gave him a rough shove in the shoulder before she slowly inched her way into the room. Harley wasn't far behind her, grumbling about stubborn women and something else she couldn't quite catch as her hand went to her knife and the other one moved to cover her mouth and nose. Behind her, she could hear Harley gagging but she ignored him in favour of slowly making her way through the apartment. No one living was here, but she knew there was a body or two to be found just by the smell alone. She had to make sure. She _needed _to make sure.

Out of the corner of her eye, Charlie saw Harley heading towards the living room. She wanted to follow him, but the shuffling coming from a room down the hall had her feet moving in that direction even as her brain screamed it was a bad idea. She needed to be sure. She needed to be sure it wasn't them. She knew, whoever she found was going to break her heart because it was either Hayley or Samantha; Charlie was still friends with her brother's ex-wife and Samantha was her niece.

She had reached the door in absolutely no time at all and stopped in front of it, her whole-body hesitating to open it as she heard the shuffling and groaning of a Roamer inside. Was she ready for this? Ready to open the door and see just which family member she had lost? No. She wasn't, but she still felt her hand move on its own accord. She felt her hand slide around the cool door handle and held her breath as she turned the circular knob before she took a step back as she pushed the door open.

The smell in the room almost had her doubling over as she used her shirt to cover her mouth and nose. Her eyes watered and her nose burned as the smell hit her full force. It had been bad in the hall but nowhere near as bad as the bedroom.

Charlie blinked the tears away and tried to see through the fuzziness they had caused. Her eyes took in all the pink and white furniture. She had already known this was Sammy's room but the furniture was a dead giveaway as well. Not to mention, the posters pinned to the walls of celebrities Sammy found attractive.

Her eyes moved over all of this until they settled on the Roamer in the corner of the room. She didn't know if she should have felt relieved that it wasn't her niece, brother or kids, or saddened that he ex sister-in-law was now shuffling towards her as her groans increased in volume and frequency.

"Oh, Hayley," she sighed, just standing there and watching as the corpse ambled towards her, her fingers outstretched as her hand reached for Charlie. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled sadly, a single tear falling from her eye and down her dirty cheek as she took a step into the room to do what needed to be done.

She flinched as she brought her knife down into Hayley's skull, but not nearly as much as she did when she pulled it out and a spray of blood splattered across her face. Charlie felt the emptiness inside her grow as it always did when she killed; maybe she just wasn't cut out for this life? No. Charlie was a survivor. Now? Now, she was a killer too. Anyone who wanted to survive in this world needed to learn to do it and move on. There was no use getting upset by every Roamer she killed. They weren't people no more, killing them was a kindness if anything and she needed to learn that.

**Pity the living, not the dead.**

Closing the door, Charlie made her way back down the hall and to the living room where Harley was waiting for her, a cloth over his face to block the smell. "Find anyone?" she asked quietly as she used the leg of her cargo pants to wipe off the blood from the knife. It wasn't the most hygienic way to clean it but maybe the smell would act as a deterrent of sorts for the Roamers. She doubted it though; you'd have to be absolutely covered in the crap in order for you to go undetected by the dead.

"Nothin'," he said, not repeating the question to her.

She nodded, "we'll head up to the roof," she continued, already making her way out of the apartment, only pausing long enough to grab a framed photo as she passed it. "We can camp up there for the night," she told him as she removed the photo from the frame, folded it up, and tucked it in one of the pockets of her cargo pants, "should be safe enough."

"How're you doin', Charlie?" he asked as they walked up a few more flights of stairs.

"I'm fine," she answered shortly.

She heard him sigh and felt his hand grab her arm. Charlie didn't turn to look at him, even when he tugged gently on her arm to try and get her to turn around. "What did I tell you?" he said gruffly, "s'not good holdin' that shit in."

"Do you want me to bust up ya face again?" she tried to ask in a light tone, but it sounded far more serious than she had intended it to. Charlie finally turned to face him, their faces level with one another now that she was on a step above him. When Harley didn't answer, Charlie groaned heavily. "Look," she began, "I'm not 'holdin' that shit in' okay? Hayley was my friend and I'm sad this happened to her, but I came here for my brother and my kids. They weren't here which means they might still be out there. _That's _why I'm fine. Really. Why do you care so much?"

Charlie shrugged off his arm and continued to the roof. Once there, she checked around for any Roamers, though she doubted there were any up there, and then looked to find something they could block the door to the roof with. "It locks from the inside," she heard Harley say. Charlie bit her lip and looked around, seeing a fire exit on the opposite side of the roof.

"Close it then," she told him as she put her pack down and stretched, "I doubt Roamers know how to open doors so we should be good. We can take the fire exit down in the mornin', head back to camp before the others have time to worry."

She heard the door close, heard the almost silent sound of Harley's boots making their way across the rooftop towards her and was about to speak when something was shoved into her line of sight. Charlie couldn't believe what she was looking at as his other arm came around to her other hand and held out an object very similar to the first.

Whiskey; and tequila.

Harley had managed to find two almost full bottles of the stuff and Charlie was gaping as he shook them in front of her. "I figured," he began as he moved around to stand in front of her, holding out the bottle of whiskey, "that after the shit we've been through, we deserve a drink."

Charlie silently reached for the bottle, eyeing it like it was liquid gold before she sat down heavily, her eyes looking out over the city as she opened the bottle and took a large mouthful of it. She barely flinched as it burned on its way down before settling in her stomach warmly. Her eyes rolled back as she savoured the taste of the alcohol and took two more mouthfuls before placing it beside her as Harley sat down on her other side.

He didn't look at her as he took a few large mouthfuls of the tequila before fishing around in his pocket and pulling out the pack of cigarettes she had given him the night before. Neither of them spoke for a long while as they sat on the roof; smoking, drinking, and watching the sun as it began its slow descent across the sky. By the time anyone uttered a word, both of them were pleasantly buzzed and well on their way to being drunk.

"Michael." Charlie looked over at Harley as he spoke the name, his glassy eyes trained on the horizon as he continued, "that was my little brother's name. Michael. Fifteen years younger than me. Got into drugs and shit after our parents died." He rubbed his face tiredly before taking another mouthful of the tequila. "I didn't do anythin', too wrapped up in my own shit to care what was happenin' to him," he told her, "didn't see the signs. Didn't _want _to see 'em, I guess. Went over to his place to get some money he owed me for bailin' him outta jail one time."

Harley fell quiet but Charlie chose not to fill the silence. Whatever he was trying to say was something she needed to let him get out in his own time. Though she had an idea where this was heading and his actions the other night were beginning to make more sense.

"He was sittin' on the fire escape, a used needle on one side and an empty bottle on the other," Harley continued after a moment, "told me he couldn't do it anymore. Couldn't keep holdin' it all in. Drugs weren't helpin'. Alcohol weren't helpin'. Nothing was makin' him feel better.

"I didn't try to talk 'im down. Didn't think he'd actually do it. Told 'im he was bein' dramatic," Harley scoffed, a sound that sounded more like a sob than anything but still, Charlie remained silent. "He smiled at me," he grunted, "'s'not healthy,' he told me, 'holdin' all that shit in. Let it go.'" Harley was crying now, a steady stream of tears falling down his dirty face as he took another drink, "then_ he _let go. He was gone before I could get to 'im. Couldn't do a damn thing."

They sat there in silence, the sun was gone and the sky awash with the colours that were painted across it when it wasn't day but still not quite night yet either. They drank, they smoked, they tackled their own thoughts.

"Her name was Lily," Charlie finally said, "something broke in me that day. The day things went to shit for the whole world. That mornin' I thought I'd killed my boss. Lookin' back I probably did, then the asshole came back as a Roamer and attacked some people.

"Then there was the soldier I killed gettin' me and Jen to safety. The kid couldn't have been any older than Jen either; scared and doin' his job.

"But Lily was," Charlie took in a deep, shuddering breath as she practically inhaled the alcohol, "Lily couldn't have been older than fourteen."

Harley shook his head, his dark eyes on her as she lit another smoke. "Fuck," he muttered, wiping his eyes before running his fingers through his curls.

"She'd just saved my life, I had tripped over a stupid tree root," Charlie scoffed, "cliché, right? Dunno who the guy was to her; brother, boyfriend, best friend, who knows. She was bit though, bleedin' out over his corpse.

"She told me to do it. Begged me than practically ordered me to. I did it. I shot her with her own crossbow." Charlie took another drink, "somethin' started formin' in my chest that day. This _emptiness _I can't explain or fill no matter what I do. I figured if I couldn't feel anythin' the hole would stop growin' and I'd be okay."

She didn't elaborate further. Didn't really feel like sobbing when she had such a beautiful view before her. She didn't want to tell Harley how at the moment she had shot Lily, she had seen Olivia. The moment she had killed that kid she had seen her eleven-year-old daughter, kneeling before her as she put an arrow through her skull. The nightmares haunted her every night and Charlie had taken to doin' extra watches just so she wouldn't have to see the images her mind dreamt up.

"Well," Harley coughed, "this wasn't how I saw tonight goin'."

Charlie chuckled, placing the bottle of whiskey in front of her as she folded her legs Indian-style and turned her attention to the scruffy man sitting next to her. "And, how did you see tonight goin' exactly?" she asked with a raised eyebrow and a small smirk.

"I was hopin' to get you drunk enough that you might start acceptin' my advances," he teased. When he saw her stiffen, he raised his hands and sighed heavily, "I'm playin' with you, Charlie, I ain't like that. I prefer the women I come on to sober enough to tell it to me straight whether they wanna come home with me or not."

"Bet you had all the ladies chasin' you," she mumbled, taking another inhale of her smoke.

Harley grinned wickedly at her and she scoffed at his cockiness, though, she couldn't stop the amused smile that stretched her lips. "What about you?" he threw back, "special man in your life before all this shit started? Or, was it a special woman?" he continued, "I promise I won't judge, some of my closest friends were gay."

"No special woman," she laughed, her head feeling a little heavier now, the bottle almost empty. Charlie didn't drink very often, but when she did, her tolerance was usually quite high. Not tonight apparently. "And no man either, not since my husband died," she told him, her hand reaching for the ring she wore on a dainty gold chain around her neck.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Harley told her sincerely, "your husband dyin' I mean," he elaborated when she sent him a raised eyebrow.

Charlie smiled softly as she remembered Scott, her wonderful Scott. "Thank you," she said.

Harley coughed awkwardly before he turned his full attention to her, his eyes serious. "I have to ask, and you'll probably wanna hit me for this," he began, "you're so jumpy and stiff when I touch you, which would be understandable if I hadn't seen you stiffen a little when the kid hugged ya too. Was your husband… Did he ever…"

"No," she whispered, stretching her legs out and laying down so she could look up at the sky. "He'd never lay his hands on a woman like that," she told him, "he detested men who hit women."

She saw him nod, satisfied with her answer.

"Two weeks in and I miss pizza like you wouldn't believe," he told her as he laid down beside her. Charlie was thankful for the change in topic and laughed as he continued, "and air conditioning."

Charlie groaned at the mention of air conditioning. What she wouldn't give to be kicking her feet up in front of the TV whilst the AC blasted cold air onto her sweaty body. "I miss coffee," she told him, "not instant coffee either. I miss Starbucks."

"I miss Facebook."

That made her snort and she looked over at Harley who was already grinning at her, his eyes telling her he was yanking her chain. She elbowed him in the arm, a smile stretching her lips before she let out a laugh. It was a drunken laugh, one that was high and drawn out; but she hadn't laughed like that since everything began and Charlie allowed herself to forget why they were even on the rooftop to begin with as she settled down beside Harley; both of them listing off the things they missed from before the apocalypse.

Time was irrelevant on that rooftop, overlooking Atlanta. They laughed, they smoked, they drank, and, eventually, they fell asleep.

All in all, it was a good night.

* * *

They were almost out of the city when Charlie decided to make a quick trip to the pharmacy. Harley had told her it was an unnecessary trip but Charlie was adamant they needed medical supplies. When she had told Harley about their scramble to find antibiotics for Jennifer when her leg wound had gotten infected, he had reluctantly agreed to their detour.

That was how they found themselves holed up in some little pharmacy, their exit blocked by Roamers. Harley was throwing glares over at Charlie who was ignoring him in favour of shoving any and all medical items she could find into her backpack. A lot of the supplies had been pillaged already but Charlie made sure to dig around everywhere she could find to scrape the supplies together.

She had already taken some painkillers and drunk half their water; her head feeling like it was going to split in half when she woke up this morning. Harley had snickered at her, pulling out a pair of vintage aviators he carried on him and handing them to her so she could somewhat tolerate the light of day. Lucky bastard apparently didn't get hangovers, like ever, and she was righteously jealous at the current moment in time.

Her eyes moved around the pharmacy, searching for an alternative exit now that the front door was blocked. Harley had suggested shooting their way out but Charlie had immediately shot that idea down. Shooting a few Roamers would only draw more to them and she sure as hell didn't have enough bullets for that.

There was always the door that led into the alley but there was only one way to go from there and that was_ towards _the front of the store. Unless. Charlie ran to the door, ignoring Harley's questions before she quietly opened the door and looked around. There! A ladder. They could use the rooftops to travel; Roamers couldn't climb so they wouldn't be followed. They were only a few blocks away from the highway and then they could just haul ass to their camp.

"Over here," she told Harley, motioning for him to come and see what she was seeing.

He groaned when he did, not happy with the idea of _more _climbing. Apparently, Harley wasn't a morning person. Or a heights enthusiast. Not that Charlie could blame him for either of those things. Before becoming a mother, she had hated being woken in the morning and she wasn't too fond of heights herself. Fortunately for her, she was less fond of becoming Roamer food to care about the height.

"We can use the rooftops," she told him softly, not wanting to speak too loudly and attract any nearby Roamers, "outta sight, outta mind."

"I hate this plan," he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "but you have a damn point."

"I always have a point," she huffed lightly, slapping him playfully in the chest when he scoffed.

Making sure they had everything they could get, Harley and Charlie made for the ladder. Charlie was first up, her arms pulling and her legs pushing as she climbed, her eyes on the top. "At least the view is pleasant," Harley said from where he was climbing below her and Charlie threw a look down to see him staring openly at her ass. She rolled her eyes before turning her eyes forward as she continued to climb, choosing to ignore him. For now.

She gasped loudly when she felt her foot slip on one of the bars and her hands tightened on their own bars as she felt a hand grab her leg to steady her. Charlie closed her eyes, breathing deeply before she threw a grateful look at Harley over her shoulder and continued on her way. Her heart was beating out a staccato as she neared the top and Charlie couldn't describe how relieved she was when her body fell onto that rooftop. She lay there, her arms and legs outstretched like a starfish as she looked up at the clouds in the sky, her blood rushing loudly in her ears as she took deep, calming breaths.

"You okay, peaches?" Harley asked, leaning over her with a grin, "need me to give you mouth to mouth?"

She rolled her eyes at him, her body no longer stiffening when she felt his hands grab her under the arms and lift her to her feet. Something had happened last night, something between them that had made her feel more comfortable around him. Maybe it was learning about his brother? Or, it was because he had respected the boundaries she had so obviously set out. Even now, his hands didn't linger any longer than necessary on her body. The moment she was on her feet and had her bearings, Harley was letting her go.

"Thanks," she muttered, blowing a wayward strand of hair out of her face as she watched Harley moved to the opposite side of the roof. "Please tell me it's not too far a jump," she asked, her voice pleading for him to give her the answer she wanted. There was no way Charlie wanted to try and jump between buildings if the gap was far enough apart that she was going to fall to her death because she didn't jump far enough.

"S'not too bad," Harley called over to her, "but I should probably go first."

Charlie huffed as she moved over to him, "we're almost the same height," she said as she looked over the edge herself, her stomach churning at just how far down the ground was from where they were. "Besides," she added, "looks like we're gonna have to go the rest of the way on the ground unless we wanna add more time climbin' up and down ladders."

Harley and Charlie shared a look, neither one of them really wanting to go first. When a few minutes passed, Charlie rolled her eyes and held out her closed hand. "Rock, paper, scissors," she said when he sent her a confused look.

"You can't be serious." Harley scoffed.

"Well, it's not like I gotta coin we can toss, now is it?" she retorted.

Harley begrudgingly held his closed fist out and on the count of three, they revealed their results. Charlie groaned, having picked paper where Harley had picked scissors. "Damn," she muttered as she took off her bag and handed it to him. "Toss it to me when I get over there," she told him, "might as well toss me yours too, make it easier to jump across without the added weight."

She stepped onto the edge of the roof and refused to look down as her body shook from fear. "Hey," Harley said, making Charlie look at him from over her shoulder, "what'd you do before all this?"

Charlie shrugged, "I was a personal assistant. You?"

"Stripper," he answered with a cheeky grin and a sly wink, not a hint of a lie in his eyes and it made Charlie snort.

She spent a couple minutes on that ledge, hyping herself up in preparation to jump. Harley didn't say a word and she knew it was because the longer she took the longer it would take before it was his turn to jump. Mentally, Charlie counted to three. _One. Two. Two and a half. Two and three-quarters._ Charlie jumped, feeling her scared gasp get stuck in her throat as she became airborne. The actual jump only took seconds but it felt so much longer. The air rushed through her hair, her heart beat furiously in her chest, her blood roared in her ears, and her mouth watered.

Charlie grunted as she landed on the next roof, her foot catching on the edge of the building and sent her tumbling to the ground, rolling a bit before she came to a stop.

"You okay, peaches?" she heard Harley call as she took deep, uneven breaths.

"I-I'm good," she managed to say as she got to her feet and dusted herself off, "throw me the bags."

Harley did as she asked, tossing over the bags one at a time before stepping onto the ledge himself. Charlie watched him silently as he talked himself into jumping. She wasn't going to rush him, he'd been patient with her and the least she could do was return the kindness. She should have moved away from the edge of the roof however; maybe then she wouldn't have found herself crushed beneath his weight.

He had stumbled on his landing just as she had and, in her attempt to try and prevent him from falling, he had taken her down with him. She released a whoosh of air as he fell atop her, her body protesting the added weight of the older man.

"Knew you'd come around," he chuckled, moving to look down at her.

Charlie rolled her eyes and whacked him upside the head, making Harley's laugh increase as he rolled off of her. He stood up and then offered her his hand; Charlie took it without thought, letting the older man help her to her feet before they both shouldered their respective bags before they descended the ladder on the opposite side of the roof.

After a cautious look at the street, Harley and Charlie took off at a run towards the highway. They garnered the attention of a few Roamers but they kept their pace and easily lost their tails soon enough. When they finally reached the deserted highway, Harley and Charlie leaned against a nearby car to catch their breaths.

"I-I hate running," Charlie panted, her body doubled over and her hands on her knees as she breathed shallowly.

"I second that statement," Harley replied before he started downing his leftover water. "Think we could just rest here for a bit? Got any food?" he asked as he leaned further onto the sedan behind him.

Charlie nodded, taking off her bag and rummaging through it. It took her a while to dig through all the medical supplies she'd pillaged earlier until she reached the two cans in the bottom of her bag. "I got, baked beans and spam," she told him, holding up the cans for him to grab so she could find her multi-tool.

She'd found the multi-tool in the back of the Humvee and hadn't parted with it since. Fishing it out, Charlie opened the can opener part and motioned for Harley to give her the cans. After working them open, Charlie removed two spoons before they both sat at the back of the car side by side.

They shared the two cans between them both, Charlie eating half the beans whilst Harley ate half the spam before they switched and finished off their respective cans. When they were done, Harley took both the cans and tossed them over the car. Charlie sent him a raised eyebrow and he shrugged at her, "litterin' is the least of the world's worries anymore, peaches," he told her as they sat there.

After eating, they sat on the back of the car for a further half hour, just looking at the city they had just come from. "I'm sorry we didn't find them," Harley told her after a moment.

"It's okay," she replied softly.

"We can check the other locations throughout the next week."

Charlie shook her head, "they're not there," she told him, "I can feel it. Besides, Bobby wouldn't have stayed in the city long."

"Anywhere else he might have gone?" Harley questioned.

Charlie shrugged, "he could have gone anywhere," she answered sadly, "I just gotta pray they're all safe. If they're alive, I'll find them."

"If they're alive, _we'll _find them," Harley corrected, "ya not alone in this, Charlie. You got the kid and the princess."

"What about you?" she asked, looking over at him, "you gonna stick around?"

"I'm like a persistent rash, peaches," he chuckled, "no matter how hard or how many times you try to get rid of me, I'll eventually come back."

Charlie was actually happy to hear that. She liked Harley. He was straightforward, honest, and seemed to be loyal. Their little trip into Atlanta had bonded them and they had found common ground in their shared loss of a loved one. "I guess I'll just have to put up with you then," she replied with an overdramatic sigh, laughing when Harley nudged her shoulder with his own. "Come on," she told him as she slid off the car, "we should be gettin' back."

* * *

They stayed in their little camping spot for another week, Harley and Charlie making runs into Atlanta occasionally to see what they could find. Jennifer was more capable of walking on her leg now and her limp was a lot less noticeable now as well. Miles' birthday had also come and gone and Charlie smiled whenever she thought of the day, she had had with the newly seventeen-year-old.

_She was up before the sun even began to rise and looked to see Jennifer sitting at the base of the Humvee, the shotgun resting on her lap as she sat out her watch. Charlie could see she was tired and gently nudged Harley awake. Two days into knowing Harley and she had found herself growing exponentially more comfortable around the older man. So much so, that Charlie had even taken to sleeping beside him during the night. _

_They all slept side by side, but generally, Charlie would have Jennifer between her and the men of their group. Eventually, she slowly started to relax and that morning she hadn't been alarmed to wake up between Miles and Harley._

"_What?" Harley asked, startling awake and already reaching for his knife. Charlie quickly grabbed his wrist, not wanting to lose an eye by the slightly panicked man. "Peaches?" he mumbled, blinking tiredly._

"_Yeah," she answered, slowly easing her grip on his wrist as she saw his body relax, "I need you to relieve Jen, she looks like she's about to fall asleep at any moment."_

"_Why can't you do it?" he muttered, yawning loudly as his hand came up to rub at his eyes._

"_I gotta wake the kid up," she explained, "I got an idea for a birthday present but it's gonna be a bit of a hike and I need to pack a few things before I wake 'im up."_

_Harley grumbled to himself but proceeded to wake up as she had asked him. Charlie was packing hers and Miles' bags when Jennifer stumbled over to her sleeping bag; the younger woman was out before her head completely hit the ground. It didn't take Charlie long to finish packing the bags and when she was done, she went over and woke up the sleeping teenager. _

_Her hand was already over his mouth when she woke him and it was a good thing too considering the alarmed cry he let out when her hand shook him awake. It was like that with each of them; all of them were easily alarmed. Getting woken up, small sounds coming from the surrounding woods, and much more made their nerves frazzled, never knowing when it meant the Roamers had found them._

"_Charlie?" Miles said, the sound muffled by her hand as he looked at her through wide eyes._

"_Hey, kid," she answered as she removed her hand from his mouth, her eyes a little sad that his first instinct when getting woken up now was to go on the defensive as he had just a moment ago. He was seventeen for crying out loud, he should be cursing her for waking him up this early; not looking at her with that familiar fear in his eyes. He was scared that she was going to tell him they needed to run, or that something had happened while he slept. "Come on," she continued, not wanting to linger on such sad thoughts on a day that was supposed to be happy._

"_Wherewegoin'?" he yawned._

_Charlie shook her head at him, "that's for me to know and you to get ya but outta bed and find out," she teased. _

_It didn't take Miles long to get up and get ready, they shared a quick breakfast with Harley; both Miles and Harley complaining about eating baked beans, again. Charlie just rolled her eyes, not telling them that she was also getting sick of the same thing. She didn't want to complain because it could be a lot worse. They could have no food, at all, then what would they do? None of them knew how to hunt properly. Charlie knew a few things from when she would go hunting with her uncle but her younger self hadn't paid much attention to that and her older self was regretting that now that they could really use the skill._

_After breakfast, Miles and Charlie set out. They moved through the trees with relative ease, Charlie keeping her hands close to her weapons as she searched the area for Roamers. Behind her, she could hear Miles grumbling about how early it was and how much he wanted to go to bed. She ignored him, keeping them walking for another hour before they reached a small clearing in the woods._

_She'd found the clearing a day earlier when she had been looking for places her brother might go with her kids to escape the city. Charlie hadn't found her family, but she had found the clearing and it was the perfect distance away from camp to do what she wanted. _

That was the day she taught Miles to shoot. The kid had gone from grumbling about going back to bed, to jumping up and down eagerly in the span of a second when she'd pulled out her gun and told him what they were going to do. For the most part, she had managed to keep his mind off his mum not being there for his birthday; it wasn't until she was on watch later that night that she had heard him trying to muffle his cries.

The sound had pulled at her heart and she had moved over to his sleeping bag. Charlie had motioned for Miles to follow her and they spent most of the night with Charlie getting him to talk to her about his mum. Eventually, he fell asleep, his head on her shoulder as he snored lightly. She hadn't moved him; Charlie simply sat there as she kept watch over her little group.

Today, however, Charlie was making another run into Atlanta. Their little group was in a tizzy, especially when Charlie mentioned going into the city on her own. "Look," she told them all sternly, "I'm only goin' in to find a few more supplies. We've done this a bunch of times and one person is less likely to draw the Roamers in than two people."

"One person is also more likely to get themselves killed," Jennifer retorted, her hands on her hips as she glared at Charlie, "you can't watch your back if you go on your own."

"I'm not goin' too far into the city," she argued, "I'm just gonna look through the buildings closest to the highway. While I'm gone, you guys should start packin' up camp. We've haven't been here long but that Roamer in the woods the other day was too close and has me on edge."

Jennifer shook her head, "no," she replied, "you're not leaving unless you have one of us with you. Hell, take the kid if you have too!"

"Jen…"

"It's not up for debate, Charlie!" Jennifer hissed.

"Fine!" Charlie growled, throwing her hands in the air, "I'll take Harley."

Harley didn't say anything, just nodded his head and moved to get his pack ready. While he was doing that, Charlie moved over to Miles. "You gonna be okay, kid?" she asked him softly, putting her hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently.

"When are you gonna let me go on runs with you?" he asked, moving his shoulder away from her grasp as he refused to meet her eyes.

Charlie frowned, hurt blooming in her chest before she quickly squashed it down. "I just wanna keep you safe, Miles," she replied, "I promised I'd keep you safe."

"I'm not a child, Charlie," he ground out, his hands balled into fists as he glared at her, "you can stop bubble wrapping me. This world's gone to hell and I can't learn to adapt when you're so intent on never letting me do anything that might seem remotely dangerous."

She gaped a little, wondering where all this was coming from. Had Miles felt like this the whole time? Why hadn't he said anything earlier? Was she really bubble wrapping the kid? Why was he mad at her for trying to keep him safe? "I'm just looking out for you, kid," she told him gently, "if my kids were here-"

"-but they're not here, are they?" Miles hissed, "they're not here and I'm _not _your son, Charlie."

The words were like a slap to the face and Charlie recoiled violently, her face paling and her eyes widening. By the look of Miles' face, he realised what he had said only moments after the words had fallen from his lips and she watched as his whole body grew stiff. He looked like he wanted to say something else to her but thought better of it and turned around to walk to the opposite side of their camp.

Charlie could feel her eyes watering but blinked back the tears. She had no reason to be _this _affected by his words. They were the truth, after all. Her children _weren't _here and Miles _wasn't _her son. When had she started to think of him otherwise? _It's the eyes,_ she told herself, _he has Jackson's eyes. _That wasn't it though but Charlie wasn't prepared to open that can of worms.

She could see Jennifer throwing her a concerned look, the younger woman having heard everything that had been said. Charlie coughed to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat before she tried to smile at her friend. She couldn't see it, but she knew the smile came off more as a grimace and Charlie quickly looked away to wipe at her wet eyes.

"Ready, Peaches?"

A large, callused hand rested atop her shoulder and Charlie looked back to see Harley giving her a similar look to the one Jennifer had just sent her. She nodded wordlessly, throwing one more look at Miles who was steadfast ignoring her before they left their little clearing and began their trip into Atlanta.

"You know he didn't mean it, right?" Harley said as they neared the city about forty minutes later, "he's just frustrated."

"He wasn't wrong though," she countered, "he's not my son and I have no right to mother him the way I'm doin'."

"Maybe," Harley agreed reluctantly, "but I'm sure he didn't mean for it to come across as harsh as it did."

Charlie nodded, "I know," she told him, turning to look at him so she could give him a sad smile, "he's a good kid and maybe it's time I start lettin' him do more than sit around camp."

"So," he began with a grin, "you gonna teach me that martial arts crap you've been teachin' the kid and the princess or am I not special enough to learn?"

Charlie snorted, "they asked, you didn't."

"I didn't even know you knew how to do that shit," he argued.

"My husband encouraged me to enrol in classes before we got married and I never saw the point in stoppin'," she explained.

"He sounds like he was a good man, your husband," Harley said.

She nodded, a small smile stretching her lips, "he was," she answered lightly.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, only speaking when they really needed to communicate and even then, it was only a few words at the most. That's why Charlie liked going into Atlanta with Harley. He didn't expect her to talk. The man preferred the silence and, in a world, where making too much noise could get you killed, the silence between them was a Godsend. The first and only time she had come in with Jennifer, they had had to hide for a couple of hours after her incessant chattering had drawn the attention of a small group of Roamers. The younger woman had apologized sheepishly as Charlie glared at her.

Thankfully, the trips to Atlanta she participated in showed no signs of the men who had been shooting up the street the first day they had come in. Harley had asked her who she had been hiding from, realising it had been someone from the group, but she had managed to distract him long enough for him to forget about asking her. In all honesty, the guy she had seen wasn't too high on her 'fuck, I better get the hell outta here' list. Not that she should have a list like that at all. He was someone she had once considered a friend; of course, that was until she had learnt just how much of a psychotic maniac he was.

She shook her head, not needing the thoughts running through her head to distract her. Distractions got you killed in this new world. Hell, everything got you killed in this new world apparently. They made their way to a few familiar stores before they came across a large building that looked like it might have been a clothing store at some point.

"Retail shopping, anyone?" Harley asked, seeing where her eyes were.

Charlie snorted, "wasn't much of a retail shopper before the world went to hell," she replied, "but I guess we could have a look. Who knows, we might find something useful in there."

Turns out, anything that could have been of use at some point was either gone or broken. Charlie sighed heavily as she watched Harley move into the back to inspect what might be in there, meanwhile, she took off her bag and kneeled to look at the things they _had_ managed to find that day.

They had managed to find a few more cans of food, the labels were missing and Charlie could only pray they didn't contain pet food. A few more med supplies and they had even managed to pilfer two packs of cigarettes. It wasn't much but Charlie knew there were other groups in and around Atlanta that had no doubt been coming through the city to look for supplies.

Her head shot up when Harley gave a startled yell before the sound of flesh meeting flesh filled her ears and her body stiffened. "Peaches, _run!_" she heard Harley yell; and she did. In the direction of the scuffle.

Charlie burst through to the back room in time to see Harley take a right hook to the jaw from some bear of a man with a rifle.

"Hey!" she yelled, running forward and pushing herself between the threat and her friend, "leave him alone!"

The man seemed amused by her presence and Charlie could feel her whole body lock up as his eyes roamed her figure. He licked his chapped lips before he smirked. "Tell ya what, sugartits," he began, "you come with me and I'll think about leavin' ya boyfriend alone."

_Crack._

A startled cry left the man's lips as her fist connected with his nose. It wasn't enough to break it but it was enough to make it bleed and Charlie wasted no time in getting Harley to his feet while the man was distracted. However, she had barely gotten him on his feet and heading towards the door when another man blocked their exit, a crossbow raised and pointed at them.

Large arms wrapped around her arms and waist before she was lifted off her feet. Harley tried to help her but the man with the crossbow whacked him in the back of the head and she gave a startled yell as he crumpled to the ground. "Let go of me!" she screamed, struggling in the man's hold.

The man with the crossbow approached her and Charlie wasted no time in bringing her legs up and kicking him in the chest. He stumbled back and the momentum sent her and her capturer into a nearby desk where his hold on her released as he gave a hiss of pain.

"Bitch," he growled and the way he said the word sent her whole body into defence mode.

Charlie turned around and punched him in the face again. This time, she did feel his nose break and winced at the pain that shot up her hand. For the second time that day, large arms wrapped around her from behind but Charlie didn't let it stop her from attempting to beat the shit out of the man that had been attacking Harley when she had come into the room.

Her boot covered foot came up and made contact with the man's groin; he dropped like a heavy sack and she turned her attention to the man holding her.

"Enough," he growled into her ear, his voice deep and gruff. His warm breath ghosted over her ear and she threw her head back. "Fuck!" she heard him shout as the back of her head connected with the side of his face. His hold didn't relinquish, however; in fact, it tightened to the point of pain. "Just stop it would ya?!" he said next.

Charlie went slack in his grip and felt him loosen his hold on her so he was no longer hurting her. He put her down so her feet were once again touching the ground and she took the opportunity to stomp on his foot. Hard.

His hold slackened enough for her to get out of his grip and by the time he had raised his crossbow, she already had her gun out and aimed at his head. Charlie backed herself into the corner of the room, making sure the two men wouldn't have a chance to sneak up on her now that the second man was pulling himself off the ground.

He was angry. She could tell; both of them were. But, so was she. These assholes had just knocked out her friend and she'd be damned if they were gonna knock her out too. "Fuckin' hell, darlin'," the bigger man laughed as he picked up his rifle and pointed it at her, "you got some balls; a lot more than those bitches back at camp."

Charlie saw the second man stiffen when the man had pointed the gun at her. She kept her eyes darting between the two of them before she pointed her gun at the man with the rifle and removed her knife, pointing it at the man with the crossbow. Both men raised their eyebrows at her action but she just stared them down; her body was tightly coiled, ready to attack again if she needed too.

"It's a shame I gotta kill ya now," he continued and raised the rifle so it was aimed at her head.

"Merle," the other man said in a low, warning tone, his eyes darting between her and the larger man.

'Merle' threw the smaller man a glare, "what, Daryl?" he hissed, "I ain't gonna let no bitch come in 'ere and attack me and my little brother."

"You attacked my friend," she growled, gaining his attention once more.

"Haven't ya got the memo, sugar," he smirked, "world went to hell and it's kill or be killed. Ya gotta fight to survive and the weak don't live long." He lowered his rifle a little but Charlie's aim didn't falter as she kept the gun trained on his head. "Ya ain't weak, though, are ya, sugar?" he continued and Charlie saw the surprise flash in 'Daryl's' eyes. Apparently, Merle wasn't much of a talker, or, at least, not much of a compliment kinda guy. If he was even actually complimenting her right now.

There was the sound of rapidly approaching feet and Merle, Daryl, and Charlie turned to the door to the little room, their weapons raised and pointed at the door.

Her mouth dropped when she saw the man who had just appeared in the doorway, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender before his eyes fell on her and widened.

"Glenn?" she asked.

"It's you!" he exclaimed, "didn't think I'd ever see you again."

"You ain't the only one," she replied, lowering her gun a little before she saw Merle take a step towards her and raised it again, pointing it at his face as he retracted the step he had just taken. "You with these guys?" she asked, looking at Glenn and trying to silently communicate that she would help him if they were keeping him hostage. She didn't know_ how _she'd help him, maybe she'd shoot the two men in the legs, but she wouldn't leave him here with these two assholes if she could help it.

Glenn rubbed the back of his head gingerly, "uh, yeah, they're apart of that group I told you about," he answered sheepishly.

She heaved a sigh and dropped her gun the rest of the way, throwing a glare at Merle as she did. "You come near me again and I'll shoot you in the fuckin' foot," she threatened as she took a step towards Glenn. As she passed Daryl, she threw him a look, not flinching when he glared down at her. "You wanna help me with him?" she asked Glenn as she motioned to Harley's unconscious form on the ground.

"What happened?" Glenn asked as he and Charlie hoisted Harley off the ground, grunting at his added weight as they moved him further into the room and laid him down behind the desk.

"Ya friends attacked us," she told him bluntly, glaring fiercely over his shoulder at the two brothers.

"Little Spitfire, ain't ya?" Merle laughed as he shouldered his rifle, "I like my women with a temper."

She growled at him, her fists clenching, "I ain't your anythin', you asshole," she hissed, "and I'll be happy to kick your ass again if it'll get the message through that thick head of yours."

Merle took a step towards her, shrugging off his brother's hand when he tried to hold him back. They were standing inches apart, glaring at each other and a tense silence filled the room as their observers seemed to wait for something. "Ya need to learn when to keep that pretty mouth of yours closed, sugar," Merle growled.

"_You _need to learn, women ain't somethin' that's there for you to order around," she retorted acerbically, "or leer at," she added, remembering his perusal of her body earlier, "and I ain't afraid to knock ya teeth out if you try anythin' on me or my friend. Got it?"

Once upon a time, she would have cowered in the presence of a man like Merle; but she had changed, she had grown. No longer would she allow others to walk over her or abuse her. That wasn't the woman she wanted to be and it certainly wasn't the woman her husband had helped to bring out in her. Besides, Merle had a point as averse as she was to admit it. The weak didn't survive long in this new world and Charlie was nothing if not a survivor.

She could hear the other two men moving as she and Merle stared at each other. Merle was like a snake, she thought; if she showed even an ounce of fear towards him, he would strike. Charlie knew the others were moving closer to them, probably to intercept whatever they thought Merle was going to do to her. Even she had begun to prepare herself for what might happen; her body preparing for a strike to the face. It wouldn't be the first time she had been hit, but it would be the first time in a very, _very _long time.

Instead of hitting her, Merle chuckled and took a step back. "As I said, darlin'," he laughed, "you got some balls."

Everyone seemed to collectively relax at his words and Charlie watched Merle approach his little brother and pat him harshly on the back. Daryl didn't even bat an eyelash or show any sign that that might have hurt so Charlie assumed Merle frequently did that. He didn't seem like a man capable of showing _actual _feelings in a healthy way but Charlie also knew she really wasn't one to judge.

Unfortunately, the silence that followed was broken by a sound that had everyone stiffening again.

Shuffling and groaning could be heard just outside of the room they were in, telling everyone they were no longer alone in the department store.

Well, damn.

* * *

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	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"Did you shut the door?" Glenn whispered, looking at Charlie who had already pulled out her hunting knife and was holding it in a white-knuckle grip.

"I don't know," she replied just as quietly, "Harley was the last one of us to enter and we _obviously _can't ask him," she finished with a pointed look at Daryl. Her eyes quickly carted to the door as the groaning and shuffling increased in frequency and volume. "I'll go see how many are out there," she told them all, already moving towards the door as she ignored Glenn's quiet protests.

Charlie could hear Merle muttering as she walked passed him but paid no mind to what he was actually saying as she got closer to the door where Daryl was closest. He looked her up and down; not in the way Merle had, but more in a pass of silent judgement to see if he could really put his life in her hands. Not that he had much of a choice really, she was the smallest person there and wouldn't be so easily seen by the Roamers.

She leaned against the wall next to the door and took in a deep, steadying breath before she looked up at Daryl who nodded. He had her back. It wasn't the most comforting thought but it would have to do for now. Another deep breath and Charlie ducked out of the room, moving behind one of the mannequins in the building. Wherever the Roamers were, it wasn't close enough for her to see them from where she was currently standing,

Daryl poked his head out of the door and Charlie shook her head, trying to silently tell him that she couldn't see anything and that he shouldn't come out. Her eyes widened when he began signing to her and, had he and his brother not been attacking her and her friend, she would have smiled at him.

**Where are they? **He signed, his hands jerking with his irritation as he glared at her. She saw his aggravation spike and realised she had been quiet for too long and he must have thought she had no idea what he had just asked her.

Before he could step out of the small room he and the others were in, Charlie quickly replied to him. **Don't know. No clear sight. **Her signing wasn't the best but she hasn't had to use it in a very long time. She had only learnt it in college when one of her friends had been having a hard time with her hearing aid. Charlie hadn't wanted her to feel left out of their conversations and had learnt sign language to surprise her. **I'll take a better look. Don't move. **

She didn't wait for him to sign anything back to her as she stepped out from behind the mannequin and moved further into the store. Charlie managed to get to the service desk and quickly ducked behind it. Taking a deep breath, Charlie quickly sat up, looking around the room and counting all the Roamers.

There were six scattered throughout the store that she could see and she turned to make her way back to the small room but felt the air leave her lungs as she spied a seventh Roamer approaching her. With all the noises the Roamers were making, she hadn't heard the one behind her and, at first, she had hoped it hadn't seen her either; but when it turned and began making its way towards the desk, Charlie knew her luck had run out.

Clutching the knife tightly in her hand, Charlie waited for the Roamer to get closer to her before she jumped to her feet and brought the knife down into the skull of the Roamer. It gurgled for a moment before she was pulling her knife from its head and it fell to the ground with a heavy _thump_. She had stopped calling them _him _and _her_, _he _and _she, _a long time ago; it helped her separate the dead from the living and made killing them a little easier.

Thankfully, the sound of the Roamer falling to the ground didn't alert the others and Charlie managed to get back to the small room without them noticing her. Of course, they could smell her, they could probably smell all of them, but they didn't know where they were. Yet.

"There's six of 'em," she informed the men in the room, "Robin Hood here should be able to take out a few of 'em with his crossbow. Guns are too loud, you'll draw attention to the store."

"What the hell took ya so long?" Daryl grunted, getting his crossbow ready.

Charlie glared at him, "I found a pair of shoes that would look killer on me," she sassed, earning a roll of his eyes from Daryl and snorts from Merle and Glenn. "A Roamer snuck up on me," she answered simply."

"Did ya kill it?" Daryl asked.

"No, I took it to dinner," she replied.

"You always gotta be a fuckin' smartass?" he hissed.

Charlie shrugged, "don't ask stupid fuckin' questions and I won't give you a smartass answer."

"We'll need to get them in the same area," Glenn said, interrupting what was rapidly becoming a pissing contest between the two adults; one that Merle seemed all too happy to let happen if his cocky smirk was anything to go by. "Easier to pick them off if they're in the same general area," he explained further when everyone turned to him.

"And how do ya plan on doin' that, Chink?" Merle asked, looking down his nose at Glenn.

Charlie's eyes narrowed at the racial slur, her eyes moving to Glenn to see him rolling his eyes. Apparently, this was a regular occurrence between the two men or poor Glenn had grown accustomed to racist assholes throughout his life; chances were high that it was probably both. She didn't say anything; though, when Merle looked at her, she sent him her iciest glare. Fucker just grinned and winked before he turned back to Glenn, waiting for an answer.

Glenn seemed at a loss of how to do that before he swallowed, "we get their attention," he said.

"How?" Daryl grunted and Charlie rolled her eyes.

"Like this," she told him, strutting out of the room and standing just in the Roamers' line of sight. Charlie brought her thumb and middle finger to her lips before she gave a short, sharp whistle. The Roamers paused into their shuffling to slowly look to the should and Charlie waved at them. It was stupid really, dangling herself in front of them like bait on a hook; but no one else had been doing anything and she trusted that the men were competent enough to take them out before they made her their newest meal.

Charlie didn't move, not wanting them to get distracted by something else if she was no longer in sight. She still held her knife tightly, still coated with blood from the Roamer she had killed earlier. Her heart was beating loudly and adrenaline was flooding her body as her brain screamed at her to get the hell out of there. An arrow whistles past her head and into the head of a Roamer that was closing in on her. A moment passed before another zipped past her head and into another Roamer.

It was them that Charlie got moving, stepping forward and bringing her knife into a third Roamers head. She'd barely removed it when she turned around and embedded it into another skull, gagging as the putrid smell of the Roamers in added her nose.

She was about to kill another one when a large hunting knife came out of the front of its skull, splattering blood across her face and neck. When the blade was removed and the Roamer dropped, Charlie rolled her eyes at the cocky grin Merle was throwing her. "I had it," she growled.

"Sure, ya did, Spitfire," he chuckled as the others came out of the room.

Glenn moved to stand beside Charlie, his eyes wide as he looked at the bodies surrounding them. Charlie stood back and watched as Daryl moved around the space, pulling his arrows out of the Roamers skills. He wiped the blood off on his pants before he tucked the arrows back into their little makeshift quiver and turned to her.

She stiffened as he moved so they were inches apart, her grip on her knife tightening again as Daryl towered over her with a fierce glower. "That was ya fuckin' plan?" he growled, "what off you had called more to us, huh? And I thought ya said there was six. What? Ya so stupid ya can't even count properly?"

Charlie's eyes flared with her anger and she took a step closer to the large man as she raised her knife. She saw his hand move to his own knife strapped to his leg.

She brought the knife down.

And into the head of a Roamer that had been coming up behind him.

"Six," she ground out, ripping the knife from the Roamers head. Daryl didn't flinch bit she did see his eyes cloud over with aggravation. "What?" she mocked, "ya so stupid ya can't even count properly?"

She didn't give him time to reply as she turned and walked back into the small room to check on her friend. "Glenn," she said over her shoulder, "please make sure the door is closed. We wouldn't want Legolas to pitch a fit again."

* * *

Daryl felt his jaw tick as he watched the woman his brother had aptly nicknamed 'Spitfire' walk off without a second glance at him or anyone else. Well, anyone except the Chinaman. She looked at him for a moment to get him to close the fucking door _her _man left open.

He hadn't been expecting a woman to be in the building, much less attacking his brother, when he had heard the sounds of someone fighting in the direction Merle had disappeared off to. He'd told the Chinaman to stay put while he checked it out, not wanting the kid to report back to that asshole cop if Daryl just so happened to shoot the tucker attacking his brother.

Of course, he hadn't been expecting a woman who barely reached his brother's chin. Apparently, the Chinaman knew her, and Daryl wondered when the fuck a woman like her had ever interacted with a kid like him as she looked him over, her body relaxing a little at the sight of him.

A large hand resting heavily on his shoulder bought Daryl out of his thoughts and he looked over to see Merle's eyes trained on the woman's ass. "That right there, little brother," he began as she disappeared into the room, "is one of God's miracles."

Daryl rolled his eyes but couldn't really deny what his brother had said; the woman really was beautiful, even covered in dirt and blood. She wasn't slim, but she wasn't overweight either; instead, she had found a middle ground. She was toned and athletic, her body built to move and survive the shithole the world had become. The only visible skin was on her face, neck, and hands, and Daryl wondered why the hell someone would be wearing so many damn clothes in this heat. He could see her sweating but she seemed determined not to take off her flannel shirt to cool down.

"Shut up, Merle," he grunted, shrugging his brother's hand off his shoulder as he turned to kick the Walker that had fucking snuck up on him. He spat on the corpse, ignoring his brother's rumble of laughter as he shouldered his crossbow and walked into the small back room the woman had just entered.

She was leaning over her boyfriend, his head in her hands as she checked the back of his head where Daryl had hit him with the blunt end of his crossbow. He granted when she threw a glare at him before she placed her boyfriend's head back on the ground and stood up.

"Did ya have to hit him so damn hard?" she asked, her voice low and husky. Daryl wondered if she always sounded like that or if she thought it made her sound tougher. Not that she needed to sound tough; not many men, let alone women, could or would take on him and his brother. Like Merle had said, the woman had balls.

He didn't answer her and she didn't ask again, she simply huffed and shoved her hand in her pocket. Daryl tried to keep the surprise off his face when she pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He and Merle had smoked their last few cigarettes a week ago and his fingers twitched as he spied the pack of nicotine.

He watched silently as she fished out a cigarette and placed it between her lips before pulling a lighter out of her pocket and lighting the cigarette. She must have felt his stare on her because she looked up at him as she took a deep inhale of the cigarette before removing it from her lips. Daryl watched as she smirked up at him and realised the bitch was teasing him. She wanted him to ask her for a damn cigarette. His shoulders tense, Daryl turned away and stalked back out of the room, shoving the Chinaman with his shoulder as he heard the woman laugh.

"What's eating him?" he heard the Chinaman ask but Daryl didn't stick around long enough to hear the woman's reply as he made his way out of the room and up to the roof where he found his brother.

Merle was looking at something and when Daryl reached him, he saw that Merle was holding a small army man figurine. "Found it in the lost and found," Merle told him as Daryl looked over the edge of the roof and down at the Walkers roaming around the streets. "Think the kid'll like it?" he continued.

Daryl shook his head, he'd like to say he didn't know why the hell Merle was so hooked up on them kids; but truth be told, he couldn't help but think on them fondly too. Not that he'd ever admit it if someone asked him. Those two kids had joined their group about a week after shit had really hit the fucking fan and for some reason still unknown to the two brothers, the kids had taken a shining to them. Of course, in true Dixon fashion, Merle and Daryl had tried to scare them off. They didn't have the time to be worrying about no kids, they were too busy trying to make sure the group they were with didn't get them killed.

The Chinaman didn't help any, always bringing back strays every time he came back from a supply run. It's why the asshole cop had tasked Merle and Daryl with going with him; though, Daryl believed it had something to do with that woman he was fucking. Daryl knew they weren't a couple, he could tell by the way the woman, Lori, would fiddle with the wedding band she wore on some chain around her neck. They didn't think anyone knew about what they were doing but, in reality, only the kids remained clueless. Well, most of the kids were clueless. That damn kid was too smart for her own good sometimes.

The again, those kids trusted him and his brother over everyone else back at camp so maybe they weren't so smart.

"You even listenin' to me?" Merle asked as he whacked Daryl upside the head.

Daryl glared at his brother. "What?" he replied, rubbing the back of his head.

"What the fuck's got you so wound up?" Merle asked instead of repeating whatever the hell he had been talking about before.

He grunted, feeling his fingers twitch again as he thought about the woman and her cigarettes.

As if the mere thought of her had summoned her, the woman, whose name he still didn't know, walked out of the door and onto the roof. Daryl saw Merle quickly shove the little army man in his jacket before he turned and gave the so a leering grin. "Well, well, well," he said, "what can we do for you, Spitfire?" his brother asked.

Daryl rolled his eyes but felt the earlier surprise he had felt flare up again as his brother communicated with the woman. Spitfire, he was gonna call her Spitfire because he knew too many women that he called 'the woman' and it was getting fucking confusing.

He didn't moss the way she stiffened at Merle's words and hid look. A quick glance at his brother and he knew Merle had noticed it too. Daryl hadn't missed the fear he had seen momentarily flash in her eyes before she pushed it down and walked towards them again. Something had happened to Spitfire. Not that he cared. As long as whatever it was didn't come back to bite him of his brother in the ass, he didn't give a single fuck.

"Here," she mumbled, holding something out for him.

"Jesus," he heard his brother mutter as the pack of cigarettes and a lighter were thrust at him. Daryl reached for them hesitantly, watching as her body recoiled the instant his fingers came into contact with her skin.

"Ain't this yours?" he grunted, Merle already snatching the pack from him and fishing out a cigarette before Spitfire could even answer.

She shrugged before pulling out a second pack of cigarettes and waving them around for the two brothers to see. "We found 'em earlier," she answered, "and you looked at 'em like they were the holy grail or somethin'," she finished.

"And ya just gonna give 'em up?" Merle asked, "just like that?"

Daryl didn't blame his brother for being suspicious; hell, he was just as suspicious. Here was this woman, who had literally attacked them not even an hour ago, and now she was giving them a pack of cigarettes. Why? Because she had seen that he had wanted them? Ain't no one who gave someone something without wanting something in return. Their old man had taught them the hard way that no one could be trusted, even before the dead started walking.

She shrugged, "not everyone is out to get somethin' from ya," she answered quietly; though, they could see the tension in her shoulders. It took Daryl a moment to realise her shoulders were stiff because of them and not because she was lying to them. Spitfire looked like she was incapable of relaxing around them; which wouldn't have surprised them, but Daryl had noticed the way she had stiffened around the Chinaman too.

His mind immediately went to all the reasons a woman could have for being so stiff around men and the idea of any of them happening to any woman made his blood boil. He and Merle were no women beaters, nor did they condone rape. Same with kids; though, with the way the women at camp treated them, you would think they were a couple of monsters. Hell, people seemed to trust that asshole Ex more than them and it pissed Daryl off; not that they didn't like them, he didn't give a fuck what anyone thought of him. What pissed him off was that they all seemed to think that the wife beater was somehow better than him and his brother? Fucking stupid, the whole lot of them; that asshole cop especially.

"Ya boyfriend awake yet?" he heard Merle ask and Daryl forced himself to pay attention.

"No," she answered shortly, throwing a glare at Daryl who returned it with one of his own, "and he ain't my boyfriend, either."

"S'that so?" Merle asked, that leering grin back again, "why not? He a faggot?"

Daryl watched as Spitfire bristled before she took a deep breath and seemed to roll in her anger. "No," she said through tightly clenched teeth, "and even if he was, ain't nothin' wrong with that."

"Ya ain't a carpet muncher, are ya, darlin'?" his brother asked and Daryl could almost hear the actual disappointment in his brother's voice. He rolled his eyes as his brother once again let his dick do the talking for him before he turned back to see Spitfire's face turning a bright shade of red.

"No," she hissed, "I'm not. You're a real asshole, ya know that?"

Before he or his brother could reply, Spitfire had already turned and made her way back inside the building; slamming the door on her way in. Merle was chuckling when Daryl turned to look at him. "That's one hot bitch," Merle told him, "gotta love a woman with a little fire in 'er."

Daryl didn't say anything, her merely 'poked down at the pack of cigarettes before he removed one and lit it up. He felt his shoulders relax as he inhaled the nicotine, his mind drifting away from the brunette Spitfire as it went blissfully blank.

He and Merle sat there well into the afternoon, a comfortable silence between the both of them as they sharpened their knives.

Then, a scream pierced the air. Followed shortly by a gun shot.

* * *

Charlie had finally managed to calm down by the time Harley had woken up. He wasn't too happy that he had been knocked out, again, but had been even more embarrassed by it in the end. She, on the other hand, had been worried that he might have had a concussion and had fussed over him for a good ten minutes before he had batted her off with a half-hearted glare.

Now? Now, it was well into the afternoon and they hadn't left yet. Mainly because a small group of Roamers had taken to hanging out at their exits and they had to wait for them to leave before they could get back to Jennifer and Miles. Though, if Charlie was being honest with herself, which she wasn't, then another reason they hadn't left was that she was prolonging their return to avoid a certain seventeen-year-old boy back at camp.

She knew what Miles had said hadn't meant to be hurtful, but that didn't change the fact that it _had _hurt. Charlie hadn't even realised she had begun to mother him. She hadn't meant to; in fact, she had promised him she wouldn't try to replace his mum and now she feared she may have unintentionally tried to do that very thing. God, the kid must hate her.

The Dixon brothers, as Glenn called them, hadn't come down from the roof all day and if Charlie was being honest, she was happy that they had stayed up there. Merle was a homophobic racist and there was something about Daryl that just got under her skin. She didn't know what had compelled her to give him her cigarettes, but when he had been eyeing her pack in the little office they had been in, something in her had told her to offer him one.

Of course, being who she was, Charlie had wanted him to ask her for one himself; especially since it had been obvious he had wanted one. Hell, he had looked like he had been considering killing her just to get them. When he had disappeared out of the room, she had laughed but eventually, she had felt the smallest pang of guilt for not offering him one.

Charlie shook her head, she was heading back up towards the roof to give Daryl and Merle something to eat. Bobby would say it was her 'mummy-mode' being activated, her incessant need to take care of people even if they weren't her responsibility. She just called it good karma; though, she was still waiting for that hood karma to finally make its way back around to her.

She hadn't been paying attention, didn't see him until he was practically on top of her. His grimy hand was covering her mouth before she could even open it to scream and he was pulling her into an employee's bathroom, his muscular arm around her waist. Charlie was kicking and screaming, the sound muffled by the large, callused hand as her eyes watered and her body chilled.

"Sh," he whispered into her hair and she screamed again when she felt him smelling her. Her screaming and fighting only increased when she finally caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. _No! _Her mind screamed, _no, no, no, no, no!_

"Enough, Charlie!" he growled, his arm tightening around her waist and his hand squeezing her face painfully.

When her screaming stopped and her fighting ceased, he loosened his hold a little and met her gaze in the mirror. "If I take my hand away are you gonna scream?" he whispered into her ear, his putrid breath on her neck making her shiver in revulsion. She shook her head as best she could with his brushing grip still there and watched as he grinned wickedly at her before he dropped his hand.

"HEL-" she screeched at the top of her lungs, her scream cut short as he covered her mouth again.

"You fucking bitch!" he hissed, pressing her body flush against the sink, her face pressed into the mirror. Charlie whimpered as the porcelain sink dug into her hips as he leaned over her body. "You should be happy _I'm _the one that found you," he continued in a faux calm voice. The way he spoke was like she should be thanking him instead of trying to get as far away from him as she possibly could.

She tried to speak but her words were muffled by his mammoth hand. He slid his hand away from her mouth, keeping it close enough to cover it if she screamed again. "Go fuck yourself, Michael," she said, her voice breaking as her fear spiked.

"Now, why would I do that when I have you here?" he chuckled.

The hand around her waist moved, gripping her flannel and ripping it open. He tore it half way off her body, her flailing arms preventing him from completely removing it before his large hand was mauling her breast through her tank top.

Charlie tried to scream again but Michael had seen this coming and he covered her mouth again as the hand on her breast began to descend her body. Her struggling became almost feral in intensity, trying to push off the sink and maybe slam him into the nearby wall. The bathroom wasn't overly big which meant she wouldn't have far to run to get out of the door if she could just get him off of her.

During her struggle, her hand skimmed over the cool metal of her holstered gun and Charlie wasted little time in wrapping her hand around it and removing it. The shot rang out loudly in the small bathroom and whilst she hadn't been able to shoot Michael from the position she had been forced into, the sound of the shot being fired had been enough for him to loosen his hold on her.

Charlie reacted instinctually, rearing her head back and into his face like she had done to Daryl earlier. Unfortunately, Michael was bigger than the Dixon brothers and twice as fucking muscular. Her headbutt sent him stumbling back a little but it was more from surprise than pain.

She turned around and pointed the gun at Michael just as he was rubbing his jaw and laughing crazedly. "Looks like sweet little Charlie grew a backbone," he chuckled. He eyed the gun she had pointed at him with sick amusement as he took a measured step towards her. Charlie took one back, directing her body towards the open bathroom door and preying one of the guys would get there. "Myers will enjoy making you a submissive little bitch again," he continued gleefully.

So focused on the dark, demented look in his eyes, Charlie hadn't noticed he'd pulled out a hunting knife until he was launching himself at her with it. She barely managed to dodge the blade but hadn't been lucky enough to dodge his hulking body and the air was knocked from her lungs as he barrelled into her. Her head impacted with the wall across the hall with a heavy _thump_ and blackspots filled her vision as her fingers became slack and the gun dropped from her hand.

Charlie was dazed for a moment but that momentary lapse in her judgement cost her a cut to her upper arm and she screamed as burning pain spread from the lengthy cut. Moving her arm only caused the pain to flare even more but Charlie had no other choice but to grit her teeth and bear it as Michael brought the knife down on her once more. Her arm came up, her hand moving to hit him in the throat with enough force to crush his windpipe and she stumbled away from him as he dropped the knife and went to hold onto his throat.

His breaths were short and raspy and he doubled over, his eyes wide and watery as he tried desperately to breathe. Charlie scrambled forward, her hand wrapping around her gun before she almost tripped in her attempt to put distance between herself and her attacker. Her hands trembled at she pointed the gun at the incapacitated man, her whole body cold save the burning cut on her arm.

How had she reverted back to the same scared woman who would cower in the presence of a violent man from her past? Michael wasn't even the greatest evil in her life; he was nothing more than a demon working for the devil. Had he planned to rape her and then take her to Myers?

The shot rang out in her ears, sounding loud and yet muffled all at once. She shot again, and again, and again.

Charlie barely heard the thundering of feet behind her as she continued to fire at the unmoving body now laying before her. She didn't even realise she had emptied the whole mag until a hand was on her shoulder and she was turning to fire the gun at the newest threat to her person. The gun clicked repeatedly but there were no more bullets to fire. Her fingers seemed stuck in a cycle; squeeze, click, release, repeat. Squeeze, click, release, repeat. Squeeze, click, release, repeat.

She felt a callused hand wrap around her wrist and lower it but her mind was still trapped in survival mode and Harley's face quickly became another Michael. Her hand was coming up, tightly clenched into a fist, before it met his jaw and drew a startled yell from him. Charlie didn't stop there, she refused to let anyone take her to Myers, she'd rather become Roamer food.

Grabbing her assailant's shoulders, Charlie brought her knee into his chest before she pushed him away from her. Another hand on her shoulder from behind her and Charlie was sending her elbow into the other assailant's face. She heard a young, startled cry and a booming voice yelling something before two large arms were being wrapped around her waist, securing her arms to her side.

Charlie screamed and kicked and thrashed, fighting to free herself even as she felt the adrenaline beginning to wear off and the weariness began to set in. "Fuckin' relax, would ya, Spitfire?" a voice grunted and Merle's voice slowly registered to Charlie.

She blinked the blackspots from her vision and saw Glenn in front of her, clutching his bleeding nose as he stood beside a doubled over Harley. Her struggling ceased as her mind began to realise she was safe, or as safe as she could be in this new world. Her arm still burned and her body felt lethargic. She would later blame blood loss for what she did next. Charlie turned in Merle's loosened grip and flung her arms around his waist as she buried her head in his chest and released a relieved and scared sob.

Vaguely, she heard the others speaking but she couldn't distinguish any individual sounds as she clung tightly to Merle, her hands fisting the back of his jacket as her heart rate increased and the blackspots grew in size. She didn't think the oncoming panic attack was helping at all as her breaths came out shorter and her blood roared loudly in her ears.

Charlie didn't know what was worse; staying awake or falling into the black abyss.

In the end, the black abyss greeted her like an old friend.

* * *

Daryl and Merle reached the small hall in time to see Spitfire drop Harley and then elbow the Chinaman in the face. Merle reacted before Daryl, who had his crossbow ready as his eyes darted to the large body on the floor behind Spitfire, several bullet holes profusely bleeding to make a puddle around the corpse.

Merle wrapped his arms around the smaller woman, pinning her arms to her sides to keep himself from getting punched or elbowed, and Daryl watched her distant eyes widen before she began fighting again; screaming, kicking, and thrashing in his brothers hold. One of her kicks landed and Daryl watched Merle wince a little when the heel of her boot came into contact with his knee.

"Fuckin' relax, would ya, Spitfire," his brother grunted as his arms tightened a little without being tight enough to hurt her.

Daryl watched as she seemed to come back to herself. Her eyes darted from the Chinaman then to Harley before she seemed to relax a little. Well, she stopped fighting his brother anyway. Her next action would have been comical if it didn't shock the hell out of Daryl. He watched as she turned in his brothers' arms and embraced his brother; her arms wrapping around his waist and her fists tightly clenching his jacket as she buried her face in his chest and began to cry.

He could tell when Merle got the urge to shove her away, neither of them was much for crying women and they especially weren't ones for comforting others either. That wasn't who they were. Apparently, however, Merle's hard on for Spitfire had somehow become a soft spot in the span of a few hours and Daryl almost snorted when he watched his older brother awkwardly pat Spitfire's hair like she was some kind of pet instead of a distressed woman.

"What the hell happened?" Daryl grunted when it became obvious to him that his brother was both uncomfortable and pissed at the looks he was receiving from the other men. "Who the fuck is that and how they hell did he get in 'ere?" he continued when no one answered him.

Spitfire chose that moment to pass out and Daryl saw Merle catch her out of the corner of his eye before he pointed his crossbow at the dead bastard on the ground and stuck an arrow in his head. Just to be sure.

Behind him, Merle grunted as he lifted Spitfire into his arms and turned to leave. Harley stepped forward defensively and Daryl turned to see Merle throwing him a dark look over his shoulder, "do ya know how to fuckin' stitch up 'er wounds, cowboy?" Merle growled.

When Harley didn't answer, Merle turned and began carrying her away from the hall. "Bitch is turnin' me into a fuckin' pussy," Daryl heard Merle muttering as he turned to follow his brother whilst Harley and the Chinaman stayed behind with the corpse.

Daryl followed his brother up the stairs and onto the roof. He was silent which wasn't unusual for him, but this time it stemmed from trying to figure out why the hell his brother seemed so taken with Spitfire. Daryl knew it had nothing to do with his brother wanting to fuck her; he'd wanted to bed a lot of women before but had never really cared how he treated them.

Sure, to everyone else, his brother probably seemed like his usual asshole self; but Daryl knew him better than they did. Merle was treating Spitfire the way he treated him and that shocked the hell out of him. It wasn't like either of them to care about anyone who wasn't family. Now, they both cared about them two kids and his brother seemed to slowly be caring about Spitfire.

Merle was pulling out the small mint box he kept in his jacket pocket that had some needle and thread. Both Dixon brothers kept a similar kit on them at all times, had done since they were younger. Wasn't like anyone cared about them enough to give a fuck about what their father had been doing to them. They'd learnt to rely on themselves and each other, that's how it'd always been.

"Stop standin' there and come help me," Merle grunted as he placed Spitfire on the ground, "gotta take the fuckin' flannel off 'er; asshole basically ripped the damn thing off anyway."

Whilst Merle held her in a sitting position, Daryl slowly peeled the flannel shirt off her. He couldn't help the sharp and angry intake of air as her back was revealed to him. The scars were old, really old. Some were long and thin, like someone had taken a cane across her back. The others were more like the ones he had on his own back; evidence that she had been repeatedly hit with a belt.

Like his own, the scars were raised and jagged, meaning she hadn't gone to a hospital to get them treated and probably had someone close to her do it for her. They weren't the only ones though; he could see the beginning of a scar that curved differently from the rest hut couldn't see the whole thing without pulling down her tank top and Daryl wasn't about to do that to her. Not after what had just happened.

"What you lookin' at?" Merle asked, leaning over her shoulder to take a look himself.

Daryl listened as a litany of curses left his big brother's mouth; noun doubt, Merle had come to the same conclusion as him. Spitfire had been abused; whether it had been by a parent or someone else they couldn't tell, but whoever had done it had wanted her to remember it for the rest of her life.

"Bet it was her daddy," Merle frowned, "would explain why she's so fuckin' jumpy around men."

Daryl just grunted, removing the flannel shirt the rest of the way before he helped Merle lower her to the ground. He sat quietly as his brother cleaned and stitched her arm. Every now and again, Merle would mutter something under his breath but Daryl couldn't really make heads or tails of it from where he sat.

Merle had just finished the last stitch on Spitfire's arm when Harley and Chinaman burst through the door. Daryl watched as Harley's eyes scanned Spitfire before his whole body seemed to relax. Bastard thought they would have done something to her; like hell, they weren't fucking like that.

"We found this," he grunted, shoving a photo at Merle. Daryl watched his brother take it and examine it, his eyes darkening the longer he did as he threw a look at Spitfire's unconscious form. "Whoever the hell he was, he knew Peaches," Harley continued.

None of the men present missed how Harley refused to use Spitfire's name, he didn't trust them and they could understand that. Did t mean it didn't piss them off, but their distrust wasn't completely misplaced. The hadn't entirely been safe _before _it went to shit after all.

"Yeah, well, bastard's dead now," Merle grunted, "she emptied the whole damn mag into 'im."

"Is she gonna be okay?" the Chinaman asked, eyeing the woman nervously.

Daryl looked down at her, she was pale but the colour was slowly returning to her face. She was also sweating and her eyebrows were furrowed. He watched Merle check nod, "she'll live," he replied gruffly, "dunno how 'okay' she'll be when she wakes up but she shouldn't keel over if that's what ya worried about. She's gonna have one hell of a headache when she does wake up."

"When _will _she wake up?" Harley asked and Daryl watched as Merle rolled his eyes.

"Do I look like a fuckin' doctor to you?" he growled, "how the fuck am I supposed to know when she'll wake up?"

Harley raised his hands in surrender before he keeled beside Spitfire, gently moving some of the hair from her face. "I'm curious," Merle began, "fine piece of ass like that," he continued, motioning towards Spitfire, "and you ain't fuckin' 'er at all? Why? Can't get it up?"

Daryl mentally facepalmed and walked away from the small group, pulling the pack of smokes from his pocket and removing a cigarette. He could still hear their conversation from where he stood but chose to ignore them, happy to pretend there was no one else up there but himself.

* * *

Charlie became aware of several things before she actually opened her eyes. First, she was outside. There was a soft breeze caressing her exposed skin and ruffling her hair; the hair ruffling was actually rather annoying and, not for the first time, she contemplated cutting her hair. Of course, she'd require a pair of scissors for that because there was no way she was letting anyone near her hair with a knife no matter how sharp it was.

Second, she was resting on something that smelt strongly of leather, sweat, dirt, and cigarettes. Her head was propped up by whatever it was and the smell reminded her of her brother, Bobby.

The third thing she became aware of was that there was a soft breeze caressing her exposed skin. Her _exposed _skin. The flannel she never left the camp without was no longer on her body which meant her scars were on full display to anyone who managed to catch sight of her back. Memories flooded her mind; Michael finding her, dragging her into the bathroom, ripping her flannel as he mauled her. She remembered fighting him, _killing _him, and then attacking Glenn and Harley before she had… Charlie felt her face heat up… she had _embraced _Merle Dixon. _Merle Dixon. _Fuck.

She kept her eyes closed; elevating the headache that was slowly creeping up on her and hoping whoever the hell had been talking a moment ago wouldn't notice she was no longer unconscious. As always, luck just wasn't on her side and she heard a deep chuckle coming from her left before the sound of someone moving closer reached her ears.

Her entire body stiffened at the movement, remembering the feel of Michael mauling her.

"It's okay," came Harley's voice to her right as a callused hand was placed on her bare shoulder, "you're okay, Peaches."

"What the hell happened?" Charlie asked, not really remembering much after she had begun clinging to Merle.

"You fainted," came Merle's deep tones from her left.

"I _passed out_," Charlie corrected, keeping her eyes remaining closed but her eyebrows furrowing.

"What's the difference?" that was Glenn and he sounded a bit further away than everyone else. Why was it so hard to open her eyes? It wasn't for lack of trying either; in fact, she'd been trying to open them since Harley began talking.

"One doesn't make me sound like such a pussy," Charlie groaned, hearing two snorts and Harley's familiar chuckle.

Glenn spoke up again, his voice sounding closer, "you took on a man twice your size and as big as the damn Hulk; I don't think anyone thinks you're a pussy." There was the sound of flesh meeting flesh before Glenn's exclamation of pain. "What was that for?" he asked.

Whoever had hit him didn't reply and Charlie tried once more to open her eyes. The process was slow and painful and consisted mostly of her straining to open her eyelids inch by inch. When she did manage to get them open and keep them open, everything was just a cluster of blurred shapes. Charlie wondered briefly why the sun wasn't blinding her but as her vision slowly began to clear she realised it was because it was dark.

The moon shone above her, as did the stars, and it would have been a blissful moment had the sound of Roamers not been polluting the air.

Charlie knew she shouldn't be as relaxed as she was; sure, she was stiff, but not nearly as stiff as someone who had just been attacked should have been. In fact, a part of her was reliving the moment she emptied her mag into Michael and Charlie didn't have the energy to be horrified at the fact she took great pleasure in red-watching what had happened earlier.

Had everything really numbed her that much? Sure, she had freaked out after it had happened; after all, she had clung to Merle like a scared child before she had been consumed by her panic attack. Now? Now, she felt like she had merely been a witness to the entire event and her mind seemed determined not to allow her to believe it had actually happened to her.

When Harley's face finally came into view, Charlie knew he was waiting for her to break down. When she simply blinked at him his eyebrows furrowed and his lips turned down in a frown. "Peaches?" he asked cautiously, his hand reaching out for her only to stop and jerk back a little like he was afraid touching her would break the eerie calmness she seemed to have fallen into.

"How ya feelin', Spitfire?" came Merle's gruff voice and Charlie's head lazily lolled to the left to look at the man, feeling her cheeks warm as her mind played back the events of earlier. She was thankful for the absence of his cocky smirk, she wasn't sure she wouldn't die of embarrassment if he so much as mentioned what had happened earlier.

Why was she embarrassed though? She had just been attacked. It was logical for her to seek comfort. From Merle Dixon though? How did that even remotely make sense?

Merle actually looked concerned. Well, he looked annoyed if anything but Charlie knew how to read stubborn men. Merle was much like Bobby in the way he closed off from others. Like Bobby, Merle couldn't hide all of his emotions and she could see the small flashes of concern leak through the façade before they would vanish again only to appear once more a short moment later.

"'M fine," she mumbled, moving to sit up only to hiss when she put pressure on her arm. She looked down to see that someone had crudely stitched up the knife wound on her arm. The wound was angry and weeping, not to mention it burned and the stitches pulled uncomfortably as she gingerly tested out her arm.

Honestly, she was just glad it was a slice wound and not a stab, that would have presented a whole bunch of problems that may have been fixable before the world went to shit but would now likely spell out a death sentence. She was sure the wound would get infected but took comfort in knowing that they still had antibiotics at camp from when Jen's wound had gotten infected at the beginning of all of this.

"How many fingers am I holdin' up?" Merle continued, raising his middle finger as that cocky smirk finally made a reappearance on his face.

Charlie actually laughed at that despite how much she disliked the man. It seemed Merle was the only one that wasn't going to walk on eggshells around her and Charlie was more than grateful for it as she threw a quick look at Harley and Glenn only to see them already throwing her pitying looks. She hadn't told Harley about her past, he had no idea that what had happened today had been so small compared to everything else she had endured. Did that make it any easier? No, it never did, but maybe those past horrors could explain why she seemed so calm right now.

It was also then, that Charlie realised two things. Merle wasn't wearing his leather vest which she hadn't seen him without in the brief time that she had known him. She looked back at what her head had been perched on and spied the vest tightly bundled. Seeing where her eyes had wondered, Charlie watched as Merle quickly reached for his vest and shrugged it back onto his broad shoulders.

Second, Daryl didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. It wasn't that she cared where he was, it was just odd not to see the two brothers together since it seemed like Daryl was sort of like Merle's second shadow. Whenever she had seen Merle, Daryl had been close by. So, it was a little strange that he wasn't now. Not strange enough for her to question it, however.

Those two realisations led into a third; her head was killing her. She supposed she hadn't noticed it before because she had been focused on other things but thinking about having been lying on the vest a moment ago brought her back to the fact her head felt like her brain was trying to beat its way out of her skull. She recalled being thrown into a nearby wall; feeling her head impact with its surface and had recalled the blackspots that had followed shortly after. Gingerly, with her uninjured arm, Charlie brought her hand up to the back of her head. She winced as her fingers came into contact with a small but sensitive lump on the back of her head. How many times was she going to be hit in the head? And, how long before these hits started causing permanent damage?

"Who stitched me up?" Charlie asked as her eyes went back to her arm.

"Why?" Merle asked, suddenly defensive, "somethin' wrong with 'em?"

Charlie shook her head, poking the stitches gingerly, "not at all," she answered absentmindedly, "just one more to add to the rest, I suppose."

It had been said so quietly no one else should have been able to hear it, but Merle had. Their eyes met and Charlie swallowed thickly at the look she saw there. She looked away a moment later, not wanting to contemplate the knowing look she had seen in his eyes. Luckily, she had been placed against something which meant Glenn couldn't see the scars that littered her back. It was obvious Merle had seen them, but who else?

Harley must have seen her discomfort because he was suddenly holding out his own flannel shirt for her and she took it with a grateful smile. It was too large on her but Charlie was just happy that it covered her scars and snuggled into it for a moment before she tried to stand.

Those pesky blackspots returned with a vengeance and Charlie would have fallen over if not for the strong arm that wrapped itself around her waist a moment after she stumbled. She looked up to see Merle already looking down at her and sent him a small smile of thanks that probably looked more like a grimace. "Easy," he muttered, too low for the others to hear and Charlie nodded as she blinked away the blackspots. Merle's hold on her didn't lessen until she straightened herself up and gave him another nod, telling him she'd be fine. His hand dropped away like she had burnt him but she didn't say anything about it, or the weird looks the others were sending them.

"Please tell me I've only been out a few hours and not a few days or somethin'?" she pleaded, turning to look at Harley for an answer.

Harley shrugged, "only a few hours," he replied, "we couldn't leave if we wanted to. Those shots drew quite a few Roamers and we need to wait 'em out."

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly, "sorry 'bout that," she mumbled before she started making her way to the door that would lead back into the building, "maybe there's another way out."

"Daryl's been tryin' to find one but he's havin' shit all luck," Merle grunted.

"Looks like we're just gonna have to wait them out," Glenn spoke up, shrugging his shoulders when everyone turned to look at him. "Not much more we can do unless you want to try and shoot your way out of here," he continued.

"I ain't got no ammo left," Charlie informed him, "and I doubt Merle and Daryl have enough either."

"Says who?" Merle asked her with a glare.

"Well," she said, her own eyes narrowing even as her head protested all of it, "ya brothers only got six arrows in that quiver and a knife strapped to his leg. You only got a rifle and a few bullets, only enough to fit in ya pockets and that won't be enough to kill the Roamers at the door and all the ones the sound will attract as well. So, shootin' our way out is outta the question."

Merle just looked at her for a moment before he shook his head and walked off with a huff, his shoulders tense as he moved to look over the edge of the roof and down at the Roamers. Charlie doubted he could see them clearly even with the moon shining so brightly tonight. Everyone simply stared at her and she stared at them back, "what?" she asked, shrugging her shoulders at their bewildered looks, "I'm observant."

She heard a snort and glared over a Merle who was smirking again. "Most of the time," she growled.

"So, what are we gonna do?" Glenn asked, looking to her for answers that she didn't really have.

"The only thing we can do," she replied petulantly, "we wait 'em out like Harley said. If we're lucky, they'll have lost interest sometime during the night."

At least, that's what she hoped.


	7. Chapter 7

**Sorry about the long wait, I was experiencing a severe case of writers block for this story and didn't want to post half-arsed chapters for the sake of posting. Anyway, here is the newest chapter and I'm not sure how well I wrote Merle in this one so definitely leave me a review. Okay? Also, next chapter will be a time skip and we will finally be beginning Season One with flashbacks to everything that happens between the end of this chapter and the beginning of the next one. So, enjoy.**

* * *

The Roamers hadn't dissipated by nightfall and Charlie was forced to accept that they would be spending the night away from the rest of their group. She resented that she couldn't be with them, worried when they weren't in her proximity because in this new world you could lose everything so suddenly. Phones were no longer a means of communication so Charlie had no way of checking on them to make sure they were okay and it only made the pit in her stomach increase.

For the last few hours she had been attempting to concentrate her attention elsewhere but there wasn't much in the building to distract her and, more often than not, Charlie found herself becoming ensnared in her thoughts. She thought about her children and her brother, praying to God that he would keep them safe until she could find them. Her stomach churned when she realised, she had not thought about her children in many nights and a crushing weight descended upon her chest.

Charlie understood it wasn't rational to blame herself for not thinking about them; after all, she had been busy striving to keep herself and the others alive and by the time she went to sleep, she was too exhausted to think. She hadn't dreamt of them either and Charlie was sure that was a blessing because her slumber was plagued with nightmares. When she closed her eyes, she saw everything that had happened so far and everything that could happen. Her mind had conjured up visions of Miles, Jen, and Harley being bitten and turned and then having to kill them. When she woke up, she felt nauseous and had once even thrown up from the nightmares.

She groaned, running her fingers through her hair as she turned her gaze to the night sky. Charlie was the only one up on the roof besides Daryl who hadn't uttered a word to her since earlier. He would occasionally glance over at her, a scowl on his face, before he shook his head and turned away. Charlie didn't question what was bothering him, she had a feeling he wouldn't like her trying to pry into his personal business. She could respect that, everyone had boundaries.

"So, Spitfire; those are some pretty scars ya got."

Charlie stiffened as Merle sat beside her, placing his rifle between the both of them as he half leered, half scrutinised her. When the hell had he come up? She shook her head, her frown deepening at his comment. "What of 'em?" she snarled, knowing where this was going and finding herself wishing the building would swallow her so she could circumvent the conversation.

"Was it ya daddy or ya old man?" Merle continued with the same lack of brain to mouth filter that Charlie was beginning to understand was a large part of the Dixon brothers' personalities.

"That ain't any of ya fuckin' business," Charlie ground out, her teeth clenched tightly. She saw Daryl look over at them out of the corner of her eye. He frowned heavily, though, she wasn't sure if it was directed at her or his brother. Probably her.

"Cause I think it was ya, daddy," Merle replied, undeterred by her cold tone of voice and the way she had stiffened. "At least, the oldest ones anyway; didn't get a proper look at the others but I got no doubt they're from ya old man," he concluded indifferently: though, Charlie swore she detected something much deeper in his tone.

Charlie's fists tightened as her rage and resentment rose. She was losing her tight grip on the anger she and her brother had inherited from their deadbeat dad and she knew she needed to remove herself from the situation before she lost it completely. Unfortunately, when she stood and went to walk back inside, Merle's grip on her wrist prevented her from executing her hastily thought out plan.

Charlie turned to look down at Merle. "You wanna know what the other scars are, Merle?" she seethed, her eyes dark and her face emotionless. She saw Daryl move, adjusting himself so he was facing them more but Charlie overlooked him as she scowled down at Merle and raised her tank top; turning to give him a full view of her back.

She disregarded his sharp inhale of air and the muttered curse she could hear from Daryl's direction. She knew what they were seeing, the memories ingrained on her mind even though she hadn't looked at them in years. Charlie avoided mirrors at all costs until she was fully clothed and had never felt more exposed than she did right now as the two brothers studied her closely.

It was impossible to forget they were there; every movement she made sent a dull ache throughout her body, the pain radiating from each and every scar she owned. Of course, she didn't let it stop her or slow her down; Charlie refused to allow her past to beat her and she sure as hell wasn't going to let herself be intimidated by the Dixon brothers.

Absentmindedly, she reached behind her and blindly, her fingers trailed over the scars she could reach. They traced the lines that formed words carved into her skin by a madman before they moved to the thinner scars caused by a man who was supposed to love and protect her. She stiffened when larger, more calloused fingers began to trace her scars, her ears picking up the small muttered curses Merle would release as his eyes followed the trail his fingers left.

With a heavy sigh, Charlie turned and lifted the front of her shirt, her eyes training themselves on Merle as he focused closely on the newly revealed flesh. The lust in his eyes was long gone and now they were darkened with anger and something eerily close to pity. Well, as close to pity as Merle Dixon could get.

Sometimes, Charlie wondered if she was more scars than not but she always refused to allow herself to think on it for too long.

She felt Merle trace the deepest scar, located just above the line of her jeans, with a gentleness she didn't think he was capable of. The scar slashed through a name and was the evidence of when Charlie had tried to cut the cursed tattoo from her skin. She had dug too deep in her drunk and grief-induced haze and had ended up in the ER where she woke up the next day to a nurse telling her they had contacted her emergency contact and he would be arriving shortly. She recalled the fear that had given her the strength to get out of that bed when no one was around and climb out of the nearby window. After that, she had run, making for King County where she finally began to get her life back on track.

Charlie shook her head, breaking the spell and stepping away from Merle. Her earlier anger flared back up as she shoved her shirt down and glared at him. "You happy, Merle?" she growled, "ya seen 'em, now leave me the hell alone."

With that said, Charlie turned, not bothering to look at either brother and quickly made her way into the building. Her heart was racing faster than was healthy and, halfway down the flight of stairs, Charlie was forced to stop and calm herself down.

She needed to find a way out of here so she could get far away from the Dixon brothers but Glenn had already informed them that there was no other way out.

_Well, fuck._

* * *

Daryl had sat on the roof for two hours and in that time he had tried to figure out what the fuck was going on with the woman his brother had aptly named, Spitfire. He didn't know why the hell he cared in the first place but his mind was eager to tell him it had everything to do with what had happened earlier and the scars he and his brother had seen as they were patching her up.

When Merle had begun to speak, Daryl was waiting for Spitfire to walk off or maybe even punch his brother. If he was being honest, Merle certainly would have deserved the hit with the shit he had been saying. Not that Daryl could say much because he had been thinking along the same lines as his brother.

He watched Spitfire stand to leave but was halted by his brother grabbing her wrist. Daryl didn't know why Merle seemed to have such an interest in the woman but that annoying fucking voice in his head told him that he had the exact same interest in her. She was different from the women they had been around the last couple weeks. She didn't roll over at the sight of their imposing figures and instead met them toe to toe. The way she fought was with a viscousness that managed to surprise, intrigue, and piss him off simultaneously.

"You wanna know what the other scars are, Merle?" he heard her hiss, looking to see her eyes dark and her face emotionless. Curious, Daryl adjusted himself so he was facing them more but Spitfire seemed to ignore him as she glared down at his brother and lifted her tank top; turning to give them a full view of her back.

The anger he felt at the sight before him hit him like a semi-truck and Daryl had to bite his lip to keep himself from demanding what the fuck happened to her.

Daryl had already known she had scars, but he hadn't known the extent of them and now that he did he almost felt sick.

_Whore. Bitch. Slut._

They were carved into her back with almost expert precision; the lines neat and deep enough to be raised more than the others. Whoever had carved her back was used to doing stuff like that to people and probably did it quite frequently. The words look like they had been done with a scalpel and unlike the older ones, these ones had been expertly sewn up. Which meant she had been hospitalised by it.

As much as he wanted to, Daryl couldn't look away from the scarred flesh and he watched as Merle raised his hand and traced the lines of the scars, Spitfire stiffening at the touch. He could hear Merle muttering curses to himself as he trailed his eyes over the scars and Daryl didn't blame him. He didn't know Spitfire and he didn't particularly like her either, but no one deserved that shit.

She released a heavy sigh and turned around to reveal even more scarring on her torso. The deepest was on her hip above the line of her jeans, and he could just make out the remnant of some kind of tattoo. He didn't know if the wound had been self-inflicted or if whoever had carved up her back had done it but it still managed to make him angrier.

It made sense now that he had seen the scars; why she never seemed to remove the long-sleeved flannel she had been wearing earlier even though it was hot as hell. A scar or two she probably could have passed off as some childhood accidents, kids being kids and all that bullshit, but she was covered in scars that came from being whipped and caned and _tortured_. Those kinds of scars couldn't be swept under the rug by using some half-assed story about being a clumsy child.

"You happy, Merle?" she growled, stepping away from his brother as she lowered her top and glared down at Merle, "ya seen 'em, now leave me the hell alone."

Then she was gone, leaving him and Merle watching her as she flung open the door to the roof and disappeared inside. "Shit," Merle growled out, rubbing his face with his hand as he sighed heavily. Daryl didn't say anything, just went back to sitting where he had originally been sitting before everything had happened. "The fuck kinda man does that to a woman?" he asked and Daryl shook his head.

"Whoever he is," Daryl answered slowly, each word dripping with anger, "he ain't no man."

"At least it explains why Spitfires so stiff around men," Merle continued, "bastard left one hell of a fuckin' impression on her."

Daryl didn't have a reply so he didn't bother speaking; instead, he simply grunted and fished two cigarettes out of the pack Spitfire had given him. He threw one over to his brother and placed the other between his lips, quickly lighting it and taking a deep drag.

Unfortunately, the nicotine didn't help to ease the anger he felt and, as hard as he tried, Daryl couldn't stop thinking about the scars he had seen on Spitfire. A quick glance at his brother showed the same troubled look he had no doubt he wore as well.

Why the hell did they care anyway?

* * *

Everyone was asleep. Everyone except Charlie who had woken up from a nightmare and Merle and Daryl who still hadn't come down from the roof. Charlie made her way out of the small office room Glenn, Harley, and herself had turned into a makeshift sleeping room and made her way into the employees' bathroom. She ignored the large, dried up blood stain in favour of wetting her face with cold water as she tried to forget the gruesome nightmare she had woken up from.

Unfortunately, the scars that tinged with pain every now and then was a permanent reminder that the nightmare wasn't just a nightmare, it was a memory.

Charlie dug around in her pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes, placing one behind her ear before putting the pack away. She searched in her pocket for her lighter next and groaned when she realised, she had left it on the roof. She seriously considered skipping the smoke but when she closed her eyes for a moment, the image of Marcus standing over her as he carved into her made her reconsider.

When Charlie got to the roof, she paused seeing a very much asleep Daryl Dixon not too far from the door to the roof. She quietly shut the door but he still stirred slightly as the door quietly clicked closed. When he finally settled once more, Charlie slowly made her way over to the spot she had been sitting before only to frown when she couldn't find her lighter.

"This what ya lookin' for, Spitfire?"

She glanced over to see Merle holding up her lighter, the usual smartass look strangely absent from his face. Charlie steeled herself and moved over to him to grab her lighter, turning to leave the area once it was in her hands.

"I ain't gonna say sorry."

Merle's voice gave her pause and she slowly turned to face him again, a sardonic smirk curling her lips. "I never expected you to," she told him lowly, "ya an asshole, Merle."

He chuckled amusedly and Charlie frowned, "yeah, I get that a lot."

"But ya an honest asshole," she continued, slowly moving to sit near him, "don't get me wrong; it's annoyin' as hell, and it makes me wanna put a bullet in ya…"

"Fuckin' hell, Spitfire," Merle grunted, "tell me what ya think why don't ya."

"Ya had no right to ask me bout my scars," she argued, glaring at him.

"At least tell me the bastard had what was comin' to 'im," Merle said as she lit up her cigarette and took a lengthy drag from it.

Charlie shrugged, "nothin' short of a bullet to the head would have been enough."

A strained silence fell between them and Charlie eventually allowed herself to relax as the nicotine entered her system. She didn't know what came over her next, but she would later deny it ever happened. "I was pregnant when it happened," she told Merle, her voice barely audible as she refused to look at him, "seven months with my second child. We were goin' to have a son; we'd already named him Thomas but my daughter refused to call him anythin' but Tommy."

"Shit," she heard him mutter and Charlie released a shaky breath, not sure why she was opening up to him in the first place.

"The stress of it, the blood loss, and the beatin' was too much and I woke up in the hospital room to learn I'd lost the baby," she continued almost robotically even as pain flared in her heart. "They told me to look on the positive side," she scoffed, "my daughter and I had survived. Somehow that was worse. She had a fractured skull, broken jaw, a broken leg, and a few broken ribs.

"Doctors said she'd have permanent brain damage," she explained, her voice hitching and a tear falling from her eye, "we were lucky when the MRI came back clear but the phycological trauma alone was enough to torture anyone let alone a six-year-old girl."

"And what about you?" he asked quietly, his own cigarette held between his fingers and long since forgotten.

Charlie scoffed again, "does it matter?" she asked, "I _survived_, he didn't beat me. He didn't beat us. My husband would remind me of that whenever I woke up screamin', beggin' for him to stop and screamin' for our daughter. When I got pregnant again, I almost miscarried from the stress alone; my nightmares grew steadily worse, I would constantly be dreamin' about him findin' us again even with him locked away in a maximum-security prison.

"Even when I was free of him, I'll never truly be free of him," she told him as she traced the scars she could feel through her top, "he made damn sure of that."

The silence drew on longer this time and Charlie finished off her cigarette before she stomped it out. Charlie got up with a tired sigh and moved to go back inside when she was, for the second time that day, stopped by a hand wrapping around her wrist. Merle's grip was different this time, gentler than it had been earlier. She stiffened as she felt the pad of his thumb gently rub against the skin of her wrist until, slowly, she began to relax.

The touch barely lasted a few seconds before Merle dropped his hand and Charlie turned to see him sharpening his knife. She smiled softly at him before shaking her head and heading back inside. Had Charlie bothered to look at Daryl's once sleeping form, she would have seen his piercing blue eyes studying her closely.

So, probably a good thing she didn't bother to look.

* * *

"Anyone ever tell ya it ain't polite to eavesdrop?" Merle asked, raising his eyebrow and looking over at his little brother as he continued to sharpen his knife.

"Since when do you give a fuck about bein' polite?" Daryl scoffed as he sat up with a muffled yawn.

Merle shrugged; his brother had a point. "How much did ya hear?" he questioned.

"Enough," Daryl grunted, "shit that happened to her and her kid's just messed up."

Damn right it was. Merle hadn't known what to think or feel as she was talking but rage had been a very prevalent emotion. He didn't know what it was, but something about Spitfire made him want to protect her. It was the same way he felt about Daryl and it made him uncomfortable. Spitfire wasn't family, but neither were those kids and Merle knew he'd kill any son of a bitch that tried to harm them.

He thought of Olly and Little Red back at the camp and hid the tiny smile that barely moved his lips at the thought of the two kids that had wormed their way into his and his brother's lives. Olly had been the one to approach them first, Little Red clinging to her like a lifeline as they decided to hang out with the two most hated men of the camp. Merle could remember the way that Lori bitch had scrambled over to usher them away and it had been the sole reason he had let the children stay, just to stick it to the stupid bitch. Of course, he had regretted it five minutes later when Olly had taken to trying to talk his ear off. Even getting angry with her hadn't driven her off as it had to the rest of them; instead, she had cocked her little head and studied him for a moment before smiling.

"I like you," she had told him brightly before she had proceeded to talk all about her stuffed bunny, Lucifer. That had made him laugh, especially the look of utter horror on the women's faces upon learning that little titbit of information. Olly had seemed oblivious to their horror but the longer Merle got to know her, the more he realised she knew far more than she often let on.

Little red was different, he was quiet for the most part and when he did speak it was barely more than a few sentences. When he wasn't clinging to Olly, he would attach himself to Daryl and Merle had watched as the kid had grown on his little brother until they were almost inseparable. In fact, it had been almost impossible to get Little Red to let go of Daryl's pants when they had been about to leave for this trip. In the end, Olly's slightly bossy attitude and a promise to let Little Red hold onto Lucifer until the brothers returned had done the trick. Of course, once he had run off with said bunny, Olly had turned to Merle and demanded that he hurry up so she could get her bunny back.

"Think that asshole from earlier has somethin' to do with who did that to 'er?"

His brother's voice drew Merle from his thoughts of the kids back at the camp and he frowned as he thought it over. "It's possible," he answered, "would explain why he had a picture of 'er in his pocket. Fucker was probably goin' to rape 'er and take 'er somewhere." Merle thought on it more and then cursed, "fuck, he's probably lookin' for 'er to finish what he started."

"What do you think happened to 'er kids when all this shit went down?"

Merle shrugged, "dunno, can't exactly ask 'er, can we? I don't particularly like the idea of bein' punched in the face again."

He heard Daryl snort and glared over at his brother but he had already turned over to go back to sleep. Merle gave a half-assed growl before he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small pouch of white powder.

* * *

Morning came quickly and Charlie was quick to rouse Glenn and Harley to inform them the Roamers had moved off and they could finally leave. She avoided Merle and Daryl at all costs, uncomfortable with what she had shown them yesterday and then what she had shared with Merle last night. Charlie quickly gathered her bag and made sure all their supplies were neatly packed so they wouldn't accidentally forget anything and have to double back.

She had her gun tucked into the back of her pants but it was useless until they got back to the camp and she could refill the mag. Charlie had avoided the employee's bathroom and hadn't bothered to ask what had been done with Michael's body. The numbness had settled in again and Charlie felt like this time, embracing it wasn't such a bad thing. There was no time to have a breakdown, they needed to return to the camp and make sure everyone was okay. Then, and only then, would she allow herself to freak out.

"You sure you don't want us to come with you?" Glenn asked as they were standing in front of the door they were going to use as their exit, "we can go to your camp and then to ours."

Charlie shook her head, "you guys have people that are worried about you back at ya camp," she told him softly, "and so do we. But, once Harley and I get back to our camp, I think it would be a good idea to head to yours." She saw Glenn's eyes brighten and smiled a little at the youthful look. "We might be a couple of days but a large camp does seem like a safer idea," she finished.

"I'll tell Shane we'll be expecting company in a few days," he told her and Charlie nodded, seeing the way Merle and Daryl frowned at the mention of this Shane bloke out of the corner of her eye. She would have been concerned about the look of utter dislike but she had gotten the feeling the Dixon brothers didn't like a whole lot of people.

"Just be safe, Glenn," she told him quietly, pulling him to her and surprising him when she gave him a hug. She pulled away and turned to the Dixon brothers, acknowledging them for the first time that morning. "You two stay safe too," she told them, watching the surprise flicker in their eyes, "I know you think ya invincible but Roamers ain't the only things out there. Just be careful, be smart, and for the love of all that's holy, be merciless when ya need to be."

Merle gave her a small nod and Daryl merely looked away from her but she knew they had both taken her words in and would consider them later. She gave Glenn's shoulder a quick squeeze before she looked at Harley who gave her a quick nod before they turned and opened the door.

Charlie stuck her head out the door, looking up and down the alley for any Roamers and gave a sigh of relief when she didn't find any. She let Harley leave first and was about to follow him when a large callused hand rested upon her shoulder. Charlie turned to see Merle frowning down at her before he held his other hand out. It was a small handgun, smaller than even Merle's hand. "There are two bullets," he told her seriously, "only when you need it, Spitfire."

She didn't look away from him as she grabbed the gun and nodded. Charlie knew exactly what he meant. If something were to happen to her or Harley on the way back to camp there were enough bullets to make sure neither of them would have to suffer for too long. She tucked the small gun into her boot and straightened to her full height once more. She raised her hand and placed it on Merle's bicep, squeezing it gently before she dropped her hand and he dropped his.

A quick glance at Daryl showed him studying her closely. When he realised she was looking at him, he nodded to her once before he turned away from her.

Charlie left the three men and caught up with Harley who had been waiting at the end of the alley. She paused as she waited for him to give him the signal that the street was all clear. When Harley turned, he looked down at her with an amused glint in his eyes. "Ya just know how to tame all kinds of beasts, don't ya, Peaches?" he teased.

With a roll of her eyes and a swift punch to the arm, Charlie had Harley chuckling boyishly as they slowly began making their way down the street.

* * *

They made it back to camp before sundown and the moment they came into sight, Olly and Little Red were running straight for them. Merle and Daryl stumbled back as two weights slammed into them before they managed to right themselves. He looked down at the head of brown hair and wanted to smile, his happiness at seeing Olly was short-lived, however, when he realised the little girl was crying.

"Hey," he grunted, "what's wrong, Olly?" he asked gruffly.

She lifted her head to look up at him and Merle felt rage like nothing else move through him at the massive handprint bruised to the side of her face. Her lip was busted and swollen, only serving to further his rage as he gently stroked her bruised cheek and watched as she flinched. "The fuck happened?" he growled, trying to keep himself from yelling and scaring the kid still clinging to him like a lifeline.

"He was hurtin' her," Olly cried, "he was hurtin' Miss Carol and I tried to stop him."

Merle didn't need to hear the rest to know who the hell was responsible for the mark on her face and gently moved Olly to Daryl who was looking just as pissed off as he felt. He didn't even bother to use his gun or knife on the bastard when he reached him. Instead, Merle picked Ed up by the front of his shirt and tossed him to the ground before he kneeled over him and began laying into him.

"You think ya can fuckin' touch 'er?" he growled as he continued to wail into the already bloody man on the ground. "Take's a special kinda man to hit a fuckin' child," he uttered as he hit him again and felt his nose break under his fist. But Merle wasn't satisfied with the damage he'd already dealt and finally moved to grab the knife he kept strapped to his thigh. Vaguely, he heard women screaming and men shouting but he was too angry to care as he moved the knife to Ed's throat.

"Merle!"

Olly's frightened screamed drew him from his rage enough for him to look up at her and see that she was as pale as a sheet of paper. She was clutching to a crying Carol who was screaming and begging for him to stop as she held onto her daughter and Olly. He watched as Olly shook her head, those eyes that were far wiser than a girl her age should be were boring into him and it pulled back his bloodlust enough for him to think a little more rationally.

He glared down at a barely conscious Ed and leaned forward so their faces were inches apart. "You lay a finger on 'er again in any way and I won't hesitate to gut you like a fish," he growled lowly. He spat on his face before getting off him and putting his knife back in its sheath. He sneered as Carol ran over to Ed and kneeled before him as she began apologising like she had done something wrong.

A small hand in his drew his attention away from the couple and Merle looked down to see Olly looking up at him with those big brown eyes. She gently tugged on his arm and he hesitantly followed her, still tempted to kill the son of a bitch that had hurt her. "Don't judge Carol," she told him as she moved them away from the camp and sat them down by a tree.

He didn't even bother to ask her how she knew what he was thinking anymore, Olly was far too smart for her own good sometimes. "I don't understand how women can stay with men like that," he grunted, his eyes moving to where Ed was pushing Carol away only for the woman to come crawling back like an obedient dog.

"My mama told me once that fear has a way of diggin' its claws in so deep it makes a strong woman cower in the presence of a violent man," Olly told him as they watched Carol help Ed into the tent as Sophia sat out front and talk to Carl, who had come over to check on her.

"Where is ya mama, kid?" Merle asked.

Olly shrugged, drawing her knees up to her chest, "I don't know," she told him honestly, "but wherever she is, she's gonna come for me and Jackson."

Merle couldn't believe how much conviction he was hearing in her voice as she said it and looked down at Olly to see she truly believed what she was saying. "What if she's dead?" he asked tactlessly.

"The devil couldn't kill my mama when he tried," Olly told him, her sentence sending a chill throughout his body, "there ain't no way walkers will."

Merle wanted to get her to elaborate on the devil comment but was interrupted when Carl walked up to them hesitantly. He didn't miss that Lori bitch watching them cautiously as the kid stopped before them. "What do you want, kid?" he asked gruffly.

Carl ignored him, too busy looking at Olly who was smiling at him brightly. "Hey, Carl," she said cheerily.

Merle watched the boy smile and return the greeting before he shuffled on his feet a little. "Me and Sophia were gonna go down and play by the lake," he told her, "do you wanna come?"

Olly looked to Merle and he realised she was waiting for him to give her permission. He merely grunted and gave a quick nod. She smiled brilliantly at him, the same smile that had surprised him when she had first given it to him. Olly stood up and surprised him once again by kissing him on the cheek and thanked him before running off with Carl and Sophia, grabbing her brother before they did so.

It wasn't even five minutes later that the asshole cope came storming up to him like he owned the fucking place.

"What the hell was that back there?" he demanded as he stood before Merle with his arms crossed over his chest.

Merle stood, using his height over the deadbeat cop as his eyes narrowed. "That fuckin' asshole is lucky I didn't kill 'im after what he did to Olivia," he replied angrily, "why the fuck didn't you do ya god damn job after that bastard hit her?!"

"Ed never meant to hit, Olivia," the cop argued, "she jumped in the middle of the fight he and Carol were having. I'm not saying what Ed did was right, or what he does with his wife is any better, but that doesn't give you any right to dish out the punishments around here."

"And what if it was that bitch ya fuckin' or her kid who he decided to hit?" Merle retorted, watching as the cop stiffened and his face began turning a steady shade of red.

"Don't start, Merle," the cop began only to be cut off by Merle who took a threatening step closer.

"Or what, pig?" he asked, holding his arms out, "you gonna hit me? Go on, hit me," he egged on, "but you better believe I'm gonna knock you on ya ass after."

The cop stood there for a moment, looking like he might actually hit Merle before he shook his head, "just stay away from Ed, Merle."

"As long as the fucker don't go anywhere near Olivia or Jackson, I don't have any need to go near 'im with my knife," Merle answered.

With a shake of his head, the cop walked away and Merle felt himself relax slowly. He hated the damn pig and his blasé way of dealing with that fucker that thought he could put his hands on Olly. Merle looked down to see his hands shaking and curled them into fists as he frowned. With a heavy sigh, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the little pouch of white powder.

* * *

Charlie stopped them when they reached the highway. She motored for Harley to take a seat and followed shortly after him. As much as she didn't want to have this conversation with him, it wasn't fair to keep him in the dark either.

When they were both seated, Charlie removed the cigarette pack from her pocket and removed two, handing one to Harley and placing the other between her lips. She fished out her lighter and lit her own cigarette before she tossed the lighter to Harley and waited for him to light his own.

"Why'd we stop, peaches?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"I wanted to explain somethin' to you," she began hesitantly, "somethin' the others know a little bit about but I've been keepin' from you."

"Why now?" he asked cautiously.

She shrugged, "I didn't fully trust you."

"And what changed?" he continued, not showing any sign that he might have been hurt by what she had said.

"My past caught up with me yesterday," she explained.

"You mean that asshole who attacked you in the bathroom?"

"That would be the one," she nodded, "Michael and I grew up together. He was a sweet boy until he began hangin' out with a guy named Marcus Myers."

She saw Harley pause out of the corner of her eye and looked over to see he had paled several shades. "The same Marcus Myers that was sentenced to fifty years in a maximum-security prison because he tortured," he cut himself off and Charlie watched his eyes widen as he realised exactly where she had been going with her talk.

"He was sentenced to forty-five years," she told him, "for torturin' and almost killin' me and my daughter, Olivia."

"Holy shit, Charlie," he breathed, moving over so he was sitting closer to her, "I'm sorry."

"It happened," she replied flippantly, "I wouldn't have brought it up but there's this sinking feeling in my stomach that tells me he's coming for me and I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," Harley vowed seriously.

Charlie looked over at him, her brown eyes boring into his as she searched for any trace of hesitation. "If the time ever comes and he finds me again," she began, fear leaking into her voice as she thought about him, "I need you to promise me you'll get Jen, Miles, and yourself as far away from him as possible. If you get the chance, you take it and you run."

"I'm not gonna leave you to fend for yourself, Charlie," he told her angrily.

"You don't get it, Harley," she sighed, "he won't hesitate to kill all of you when he finds out how much you all mean to me. I… I can't have ya deaths on my conscience too; I wouldn't be able to handle it."

They were quiet for the longest time, Harley and Charlie locked in a staring contest. When Harley realised there was no way he could sway her decision, he sighed heavily and gave her an affirmative nod. Charlie placed a callused hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently before she dropped it and began rummaging in her bag for the can of beans that had been in there.

The both of them ate in silence before taking a moment to get a drink of water. When they were hydrated and fed once more, they shouldered their bags and continued on their way to camp. Charlie was going off of memory alone when it came to walking as her mind was sidetracked with the startlingly real reality that Marcus might actually find her again. She looked down to see her hands shaking and shoved them into the pockets of her pants, ignoring the looks she could feel Harley throwing at her.

She was willing to admit just how downright terrified she was at the idea of running into Marcus again. Would she even survive a second encounter with the psychopath? She doubted it, and if she did, would she even be herself afterwards? Her last encounter with him had almost destroyed her and her family, Charlie could only take comfort in the fact he was far away from her family. Bobby was smart; there was no way he'd allow Marcus anywhere near her kids.

Still, she couldn't shake the bad feeling and the closer they got to the camp, the more that feeling grew until she was sure she would go into a full-blown panic attack. She knew she couldn't, however, in this new world, you couldn't afford the luxury of panicking when things got to be too much. That shit got you killed now and Charlie wasn't ready to greet Death just yet.

"You hear that?"

Harley's voice broke her from her thoughts and Charlie looked over at him to see him frowning. She paused and strained her hearing to see if she could pick up what he was. "Nothing," she replied, shaking her head for emphasis.

"Exactly," Harley said morbidly, "the kid ain't been silent for more than a few minutes since I met ya'll. So, why the hell can't I hear him now?"

Charlie felt her entire body go cold as she realised that Harley was right. Miles was rarely ever quiet and they were close enough to the camp that she should have been able to hear him by now. She ignored Harley's hissed 'wait' as she propelled forward, urging her legs to go as fast as they could as fear sunk deep into her bones. What if Roamers had gotten them? Or bandits? Hell, what if Jen had finally shot him like she had been threatening to do over the last few days?

She broke the tree line leading to the camp and it was so much worse than what she had feared. Miles and Jen were alive, that much was enough to almost calm her racing heart. Of course, the guns pointed at their heads threatened to make her collapse under the strain of her fear. Miles was crying and she could see he had been shot in the leg. Jen was trying to put pressure on the bleeding wound as the blonde glared up at the men holding guns to her and Miles. One of the men was quick to glare back at her and Charlie took notice of the swollen eyes and busted lip before seeing the bloody knuckles Jen was currently sporting.

Charlie looked up when she heard rustling and felt her heart plummet as another man dragged Harley into the clearing by his hair before shoving him to his knees next to Jen and Miles.

"Quite the collection you have going here, Charlie-girl."

She felt every part of her body tense up at the sound of his voice as she looked over to the Humvee where he was leaning against the car and smirking darkly at her. In his hand was a large hunting knife that looked to be coated in dried blood. Jail hadn't been pleasant to him; his hair had greyed and his face had aged beyond his years. It hadn't changed the crazed look in his eyes, however; if anything, it had only made it worse and Charlie recoiled from him instinctually.

"Military Humvee, Barbie, little spaz boy, and let's not forget that asshole," he taunted, pointing his knife at Harley who was glaring fiercely at him.

Charlie hadn't spoken, her voice lost to her as a lump formed in her throat. She was sure it was her heart trying to leap out of her body and no matter how many times she swallowed, the lump wouldn't dislodge. He moved away from the Humvee and her instincts screamed for her to run as far away from him as she could get. She didn't. She _couldn't_. Fear had frozen her to her spot and she watched helplessly as he got closer to her.

She bit her lip to keep from sobbing when he touched her, tasting blood as her teeth pierced through the skin. The touch was gentle, a mere caress of her cheek but it only served to further frighten her. "Cat got your tongue, sweetheart," he purred, his nose in her hair as he inhaled deeply, "or are you just too happy to see me."

"Don't fuckin' touch her!" Harley yelled before he doubled over, the man from earlier having kicked him in the stomach.

Charlie felt a tear fall from her eye as his arm wrapped around her body and pulled her against his chest. She met Harley's eyes a shook her head slightly, begging him silently not to say or do anything that would get him killed as she felt him chuckle against the skin of her shoulder.

"Don't touch her?" he questioned amusedly, "I'm the _only_ one who can touch her. Isn't that right, baby?"

She whimpered as she felt the end of the knife dig into the base of her back and nodded compliantly, taking in a sharp breath as the knife eased off a little. "Say it," he purred again, leaning his chin on her shoulder.

"Yes," she whispered, her voice breaking as she kept her eyes on her little makeshift family. She could see the tearing all of their eyes even though Harley and Jen tried to hide it behind their anger.

"I couldn't hear you, Charlie," he growled, the knife once again pressing harder against her back.

"Yes," she said louder, her voice shaking as another tear fell from her eye.

"Good girl," he coo'd before he was turning her away from her family to face him. He grinned down at her; a grin full of dark promises that made her shiver. "Now," he continued, his face getting closer to her own, "ain't you gonna give ya husband a kiss hello?"


End file.
